


KitKat

by FluffyPieCake



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Built in England, Harlots AU, Historical Fantasy, M/M, in the 18th century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyPieCake/pseuds/FluffyPieCake
Summary: Life is an ocean, and he’s a bad swimmer. Hope is a boat that he cannot reach. Drowning in the middle and losing his breath, he hopes for a hand to pull him out, help him see the light.





	KitKat

**Author's Note:**

> **A Zarry Harlots AU, because I love the series so much. Feel free to tell me what you think here or at my[Tumblr](http://fluffypiecake.tumblr.com)!**

The red and yellow glow of the fire licking its way on the wood surface and catching on the fabric of her skirt is a fresh memory in his head. Hands gripping his shoulders, eyes warm, meeting his wide ones, and voice soft to guide him away. The angry voices still echo in his ears over and over again, but a sudden bump from the carriage makes his head hit the side of it, and he snaps his eyes open, wide and hazy, with blurry images from that night until the image of the boy, younger than himself, sleeping across from him, sets his body to relax. He sighs, leaning down to grab his hat which has fallen down and adjusts it on top of his hair, tucking most of what he can gather inside of it to cover the messed up, greasy locks.

They’ve come to a stop, and he slides the curtains to the side slightly, not to let too much sunlight through. The buildings on the sides of the street are painted, higher heights with less cracks in them, people dressed in brighter colors with fake smiles and head high. It makes him remember the street by Hackney's refined parish church. The trees surrounding it from each side and neglected despite how many people work inside. He hasn’t gone there but twice though, and the glared eyes were enough to make him stop. He was a young boy back then, hiding behind the strong figure that would always pat his head and smile at him, promising him that whatever they say, he should not believe, because he’s not what they say, and he is better than them. He’d still avoid going when he got older, and he can’t see the old trees that has overgrown here, makes him hum as he opens the door to get out, closing it gently behind him. Holloway looks nicer, he decides.

“That’s as far as I can get you to, son.” A voice steals his attention, and he turns to the old man, a kind smile on his face that makes the crinkles around his eyes fold even more, and it earns a smile from himself to the one person who agreed to take him along when he found him in rain and dirt, praying to god that the rain would stop the flames and send the people home. He wanted so badly to go back, wanted to see, wanted to know. But the strong grip the old man had with his kind eyes that were full of concern made his body weaker than it was from all the run and the tears. “If I knew where the street you’re talking about is-”

“It’s alright,” he replies with a shake of his head, “it wasn’t even your destination in the first place,” he holds his hands together and bows, “so, thank you, sir, for all your kindness.”

A laugh from the old lady beside him make him straighten again with a grin on his face. “You’re such a lovely boy. Pete will miss your company,” she turns her head back towards the inside of the carriage, “he would be devastated if he didn’t get to bid you farewell.”

“We talked,” he replies with another smile. “He’ll be a fine man one day. I’m sure I’ll get to meet him again.” He pauses, “I hope to meet all of you again actually. Back home.”

A sympathetic look flashes across the old man’s face. “Are you sure you’re fine on your own here? We could manage another member in-”

“I’ll be fine,” he replies quickly. “I _am_ fine.” The old lady goes to open her mouth, but he’s already walking backwards. “Thank you for everything! I wish you a good journey!” He waves at the old couple, keeps walking backwards until they wave back as well, and when they’re out of his sight, he turns on his heels and stops, the smile fading away with another heavy sigh as he takes the small piece paper out of his pocket and reads the address he’d read a million times now. A finger lingering for a moment on the ink that was scribbled with a haste along with shaky hands. He’d never seen them shaking like that before, never wanted to see them shaking like that. A sigh escapes his mouth as he closes his eyes, putting the piece of paper to the side and immediately stumbling over something.

Crap. Over _someone_. He thinks he hears a groan.

The first thing he looks for before looking at the person’s face is the piece of paper. He’s memorized the address, can write it down if needed, but the letter attached to it is far more important than the address itself. Once he finds it, he blows air out of his mouth in relief, tucking the piece of paper inside his pockets, then looking back at the person. His hat has fallen to the ground as well, and he quickly grabs it to put it back on top of his head. His eyes rack slowly from the floor to the person, his own knees are still pressed to the hard ground.

Apparently, he’s stumbled upon a man, who is very rich it seems too, and he freezes out of fear. Damn it. He should’ve offered his apologies first thing. His hands grip the breeches he’s wearing, suddenly too aware of the fact that he’s been traveling for three days and had only stopped to throw some water on his face and hands. The coat the man is wearing is white, decorated with gold lines and patterns, with buttons that look shinier than he’d ever seen. The amount of dirt that would reach his clothes is definitely not in comparison to how the man would perceive the small amount of dirt he has now, thanks to him, on his clothes. His hair isn’t that long, shining brown in the sunlight, but the big hands trying to adjust it back to its place covers his face slightly, and he remembers, again, that he is yet to apologize.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounds shaky, which isn’t something new since that night, but he hadn’t intended it to be that way. He should not show fear. The worst thing that could happen is being thrown in jail.

_Okay, that wasn’t a very good idea._

“I was not looking into where I was going and …” He trails off when the person huffs a breath and pushes himself off the ground. Not wanting to be the one on the ground, he quickly pushes himself off to stand as well. He’s pretty sure that whatever damage was made can be fixed. He’d clean the suit himself if needed to even.

“I was, um, I was supposed to, and I know that, I do, I, um, I’m just …” He clears his throat and furrows his brows when he startles so much, and he hates it, how his anxiety gets the best of him when he’s alone at new places. There’s a gentle voice in his head that tells him to breath, to close his eyes and think for a moment before speaking again, to allow his nerves to cool down a little before he makes a fool out of himself. It was always encouraging, and he would literally give everything to have that voice coaxing him again. “I’m sorry I stumbled and made you fall. I was a little lost trying to figure where to go.” He opens his eyes once he’s finished, and there’s a blank face staring back at him, a taller and a bigger figure with superiority reeking from him. He’s not terrifying though. With big, shiny, green eyes, and lips parted only the slightest bit as his brows create a small wrinkle between them.

“You said you were lost?”

He gulps at hearing those words in that deep slow voice, and it doesn’t convey any emotion at all. He doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be threatening or not.

“Yes.” He replies. “Sir,” and he adds right after, feeling a little trembling on his feet. He avoids his gaze next, because he doesn’t know if the pretty green eyes and handsome face, and the perfect looking outfit fitting the body is mocking him on the inside. He’s glad his hair is covered at least. He does not want to look less more than he looks right now. Not in front of this rich person.

“What’s your name?” The question startles him a bit, making him look up again to meet his eyes. A hint of confusion in them if you look hard enough. “You’re not from here,” he looks over him once. “I’m sure I would have met you at least once.”

He stares into his eyes for a moment before he opens his mouth. “Zayn.” He replies. “Zayn Malik.”

“Zayn.” The man repeats it slower, and Zayn takes a deep breath as the man approaches him, dusting the dirt off his clothes. “And where were you heading?”

Zayn quickly finds the piece of paper, showing it to the man. Something flashes in his eyes as he reads the address, looking over Zayn again with the same look from before, and he hates how closed this person is and how he can’t read him. It used to be so easy back home. It’s either a genuine grin, or straight up disgusted looks. The blank face of this stranger makes something twist on his insides, and he wants it away. When the man flips the piece of paper, Zayn quickly snatches it away from his hands with a frown and clears his throat. “Yeah, um … Do you happen to know where Surr Street is? I would appreciate that very much.”

The stranger looks at him for a moment, face still blank, and eyes still as empty as ever. It’s a shame though, Zayn thinks he would look good with emotions. Happy ones. “Yeah.” He replies, motioning behind his back. “It’s not that far away from here, but it’s a long walk.”

“You can give me the directions.” Zayn replies with probably too much unneeded enthusiasm. It makes the man’s lips twitch as he looks into his eyes, but it’s gone as quick as it shows, and with the next blink, the emptiness is back.

“Or you could use a ride.”

If Zayn had that amount of money. No, if he had _any_ amount of money, really, he would _totally_ get a ride. But he doesn’t, and even if he has to walk across the entire city, he doesn’t have another choice. He would just go along with it. So he sticks with his earlier decision. “I’m sure I’m capable of walking there.”

Another blink, and maybe even a hint of a smile, and the man is shifting his weight into one leg. His eyes darting away for a bit before landing back on him. “I’m offering you a ride.” He motions behind his back again, and Zayn only now notices the fancy carriage waiting for the man. As white and gold as his outfit. And he wants to laugh about it if he didn’t dream to own it instead. “Shall we?” He cocks an eyebrow with a tilt of his head, and Zayn, even though this man might attempt to do something to him, he doesn’t know him at all, agrees to it. Finding his own legs moving forwards, and this time, a small smile actually stays on the man’s face for more than one second even if it’s gone in the next one immediately. To his defense though, he would have probably agreed to anyone offering help at that moment. There’s a blond man with blue eyes and a blank face as well, standing next to the carriage, and he blinks at him once, taking in his appearance quickly before looking at the man in front of him.

“Where to?” The blond man asks, directed at the brunet.

“Surr.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he climbs into the carriage, and the blond looks at him once more before he’s turning to the front, leaving Zayn to stand there until the man is looking at him with his brows raised from the inside of the carriage. With a deep inhale, Zayn gets in as well.

“I’m Harry Styles, by the way.” Zayn just nods at him when he introduces himself. It sounds too fake, to be honest. He would expect his middle name to be even more ironic. Maybe not a name he was born with. _Definitely_ not a name he was born with.

“Well, Sir Styles, I thank you for your generosity. And I apologize again for my earlier behavior.”

Harry waves a dismissive hand at him as he leans back on the seat that is more comfortable than he’d ever felt before. The combination of red and gold in the floral patterns scattered at the top fit very well with the off-white color of the seats and the matching white of the floor. It makes Zayn think of the servants made to clean the floor daily, no, perhaps every couple of hours, just to make it preserve its color. He doesn’t want to make their work harder, so he tries to keep still to avoid getting the carriage the slightest more of dirt. “No need to worry about that.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Harry, which is something he’s grateful for. He keeps his eyes looking outside the small window from behind the slightly pushed to the side curtains, and he doesn’t want to glance at Harry to know where’s he’s looking, if he’s having a judgmental look on his face or not, because he’s aware that whatever Harry is thinking about will never show on his face. They pass a tall building, and Zayn, out of curiosity, leans closer to the window to have a close look. It’s a theatre, he can tell, and he keeps looking at it as they make a turn, and then another, making it disappear out of his sight before the carriage comes to a stop in front of another building. There’s no sign on it, no other than a small ‘Welcome’ on a wooden banner, and Zayn wonders if it’s their destination. If it was though, he thinks about how close they are to the theatre, and he wishes he can go there during his stay.

“We’re here,” Harry informs him, and Zayn is a bit taken back by how he’s still staring at the building without getting out, so he leans away from the window at the door, and he’s about to open it himself when the blond man from earlier does it for him.

“Thanks,” he tells Harry first, and only gets a nod in response before he’s getting out of the carriage and thanking the blond man as well who he wonders if he even heard him as he doesn’t give any type of response, making Zayn frown at him for a second as he gets to the front of the carriage once more, and without a goodbye, he watches the carriage leaving. With a deep breath, he turns to the building in front of him again and knocks on the door. A man answers, taller with a strong built, a darker skin than himself and much darker eyes. They’re friendly however when the man looks down at him, and he can even see a hint of confusion in his eyes as well. “Um …” he clears his throat, “I’m here for Sir. Tomlinson?”

The man looks over him once more and nods as he steps to the side. “Of course, come in,” he tells him with a smile, and Zayn offers a small one back as he steps inside, taking a moment to glance around him as the man closes the door behind him. He comes to stand in front of him when Zayn doesn’t move and the smile is still present on his face. “This way, young man,” he leads the way, and once they’ve passed the corridor by the door, there are plenty of people having a quiet breakfast. They all look back at him with curious looks, and once the mumbles start, he looks away, going through the door that the man opens for him, giving him a comforting smile before he enters, and Zayn decides that he’s the first person he likes in Holloway.

The room is cozy and very neat, and on a chair, a man stares up at him with the same blank expression Harry has, and he guesses it’s Sir. Tomlinson, his nerves getting the best of him when he realizes that he looked at the room first before the man himself, and he quickly gets out the small piece of paper to hand it to the man, taking a step back afterwards and keeping his eyes on the carpet beneath his feet instead, liking its colors. He can’t help the glances he takes though at the man as he opens the letter and reads it.

“So Paul sent you to me,” he looks up at him, eyes slowly going down his body, and it makes a shiver runs down his spine, not knowing what the man thinks. He’s aware now that he’s Sir. Tomlinson as he stands up slowly, a silver handle dress cane in his hand while he puts the letter down with the other. “Can you sing?” Zayn shakes his head. “Do you play any instruments?” Zayn shakes his head again. “Speak any other language?” Zayn shakes his head for a third time, his hands twitching by his side when Sir. Tomlinson nods slowly at him. “Strip.” Zayn’s eyes widen at the sudden request as he picks his head up slightly. He opens his mouth and closes it, seeing no reaction from Sir. Tomlinson, and it’s not like he’s not used to it, but it’s not that what makes him hesitate, so he turns his gaze down again as he strips out of his clothes, anxiety building up again inside of him. He hopes the contrast between them isn’t too much, but he knows it’s true, from how Sir. Tomlinson’s hair is styled to the perfectly tied shoes. He’s trying to keep his hands at his sides, but they keep twitching, and he has to hold to something or ball them into fists. “Are you a virgin?”

Zayn furrows his brows slightly. Has he not read the letter? “No.”

Sir. Tomlinson hums as he circles him, eyes never leaving his body, and Zayn tries to stay calm, to not think about the dirt covering his body from three nights before. “So you worked as a harlot before.” It’s not a question, but Zayn still replies with a ‘yes’. “How many kinks are you comfortable with?” Zayn parts his lips and stares into sharp blue eyes, and he doesn’t know how to answer that. “Paul mentioned your name is Zayn?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Zayn,” he returns to his chair and sits down on it, crossing his legs and brushing a finger at his beard. “If you’re going to work for me, I need to know some basic information, so …” he raises his brows and Zayn keeps his silence causing him to sigh deeply. “Tolerance to pain?”

“Pain,” Zayn repeats with his eyes a bit wide.

“Double penetration?”

“Double-”

“How much can you take up your ass?” Sir. Tomlinson asks directly, and Zayn clears his throat, knowing one answer at least.

“I’ve, um, I’ve once taken a seven with proper preparation.”

“Once?” Sir. Tomlinson cocks an eyebrow.

“With proper-” Zayn goes to complete the sentence but the bang on the floor with the cane makes him stop, eyes darting quickly to the floor once more.

“You can wear your clothes,” he tells him, and Zayn hurries to do so, making sure his hair is covered as well with his hat, and he’s barely fixing his appearance when the door opens, and there’s a girl standing there, looking at Sir. Tomlinson with a smile. “Prepare a bath for him and also a room afterwards.”

The girl smiles at him afterwards. “Right away, sir.” And Zayn wants to maybe thank Sir. Tomlinson since he gets that he’s taken now under his care, but when he looks at him, he’s not paying attention to him, back to whatever he was doing before he meets him, and Zayn shuffles to the door after the girl who takes him upstairs, away from the mumbles they pass on their way there. The girl has a look in her eyes that Zayn doesn’t like as she sits on the floor next to him, inside the room, and Zayn guesses it’s something normal now that he’s going to be exposed to everyone. With a heavy sigh, he strips out of his clothes again and gets into the hot water she prepared for him, the feeling too good if he’s being honest as he closes his eyes, sinking further into the water. “So what’s your name?” She asks quietly.

“Zayn.”

“You’re not from here.”

“I’m not,” Zayn confirms.

“Where are you from?” She asks, and he keeps silent, deciding to open his eyes and scrub his body before the water gets cold. He needs to get rid of the dirt and the memories attached to it. She moves so she’s in front of him now, but he doesn’t look up at her. “I’m Lucy. A harlot here too.” He hums. “I can tell why Louis decided to keep you so fast.” He looks up at that, brows furrowing until he realizes that Louis is Sir. Tomlinson. “You have pretty eyes,” she compliments, and he looks down again, continuing scrubbing at his body, “showing innocence that you do not own.” Her tone isn’t light as it appears to be, and Zayn merely pauses for a second, he doesn’t know if she’s genuine or not. “Saw you arriving in Harry’s carriage earlier. Pretty sure it’s gonna be the talk of the brothel for the day.” Zayn does pause at that, looking up at her again. “Do you want me to help washing your hair?” She stands and gets behind him without his reply anyway, and Zayn wouldn’t exactly say no. “All you need is to eat some more to fill up those cheeks, and trust me, you’ll have plenty of customers coming your way.”

“You know Harry?”

“Who doesn’t? The lucky bastard,” she replies, and Zayn turns his head to look at her, but she uses her hands to turn it right back so she can wash his hair properly. “He’s just like us. A harlot, I mean.”

“He’s a harlot?!” Zayn tries to turn his head again only to have it turned back.

“Owned though. Got a rich keeper. With a contact and all.” Zayn furrows his brows as he sighs dreamily. “The dream of every harlot.” Not really. If Zayn’s being honest, he just wants to go home. “The question is, how he has come to know you before you even work here.”

“I was lost,” Zayn replies honestly, “I gave him the address to the brothel and … I guess he knew then.” He now knows what that look he first gave him means. He doesn’t know though what he thought of once he knew Zayn was working as a harlot much like himself. He can clearly see how Harry wins customers, how he’d get a keeper so soon so young. He’s handsome, with pretty green eyes with specks of gold in them, and Zayn finds himself thinking of how Harry would be in bed, if it would break that blank face he has, or if it’s the cause to the emptiness in his pretty eyes. Water splashing on his face is what stops his thoughts short.

“There you go,” Lucy announces happily as she comes to stand in front of him again. “I’ll go prepare your room now.” She leaves next, and Zayn stares at the door for a long while, keeps his body underwater until it runs cold so he has to get out and dry himself up, not sure if he’s missing the dirt on his body to remind him of that night or not, but he’s sure that his dreams are never going to be empty.

The room Lucy prepares for him is nice. Isn’t too big nor is it too small, but the feeling of loneliness takes over him. He drops his weight on the bed, thankful that he’s sleeping on one instead of the old man’s carriage.

**-_-_-**

There’s no clock inside the room or one that he owns for sure, so he’s not exactly aware of the time when he blinks his eyes open, staring at the wall across from him as loud moans comes from the other side. And it’s not just this side, it’s the other as well, and the men mixed with women’s sounds are not going to turn him back to sleep, so he sighs, siting up on the bed and rubbing his eyes tiredly, seeing the curtain he left opened from the night before is now closed, and the dishes Lucy brought for dinner are now gone, replaced with a pile of clothes neatly folded on a chair. He dresses up, not entirely focusing on how the clothes fit him so well. Louis’ eyes must be sharp for him to decide on his size from only one look without measuring anything. He does take his time though styling his hair, splitting it from the sides to not cover his eyes anymore, and he doesn’t need a hat either, looking at his reflection in the small mirror placed on the wall one last time to make sure he’s presentable before he steps out of the room, the moans never stopping.

He closes the door behind him quietly even though he knows that if he slammed it shut, no one would notice. At the same time though, another door opens, and he sees a shirtless man, maybe an inch or two taller than himself with ginger head and freckles covering his face, skin too white and tainted with a pink blush that’s reaching his chest as he leans on the door frame.

“I’ll be looking forward to our next time, Mr. Marley,” he speaks up, and Zayn turns his head to the side to see the man he just called turning around, stopping when he notices him, and Zayn just blinks at him when he approaches him.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” Mr. Marley tells him.

“He’s new.” And it’s not the guy with the ginger head who speaks up, it’s Louis, when Zayn turns his head to see him. “Not up for reservation I’m afraid.” Zayn frowns at that, but Mr. Marley smiles with a step back. He’s grateful that Louis didn’t send him to work right away last night, but he’s pretty sure he can handle customers now. Maybe even before breakfast.

“I see,” Mr. Marley hums as he puts on his hat, “have a very good day then, Sir. Tomlinson.” Louis smiles at him as he walks past him and goes downstairs, and Zayn can see from the corner of his eyes the ginger guy straightening up, Louis turning to him immediately.

“Go back to your room, Cass,” he tells him before turning to Zayn, “as for you, come along,” he motions with a finger to follow him, and Zayn follows silently until they reach his office room from yesterday, pouring him a cup of tea. “That was Cass’ regular,” he tells him without looking at him, and Zayn nods at his back. He understands. No stealing from each other inside the house. “Took you only one glance,” Louis looks up at him then, “well done,” he smiles, and Zayn frowns again, not really getting the point, but he nods again. Louis sits down and tells him to do the same, so he does, taking a sip carefully after Louis takes one. “We’ll be holding a party in a couple of days. You can introduce yourself properly. Until then, you’re free to attract some more, but no business, understood?” Zayn nods. “Not a single touch. I need to sell you.” Zayn pauses, looking at Louis with wide eyes.

“Sell me?”

“For the highest bidder.”

“I thought you’re going to keep me,” Zayn replies quietly and watches as Louis puts his cup down.

“I am. I’m selling your virginity.”

Zayn blinks at him with a frown. “I’m not a virgin.”

“You look untouchable,” Louis replies, eyes meeting his again, “and you will keep up the act until I tell you otherwise.” Zayn opens his mouth to protest, maybe telling him that he can’t hide the fact that he’s not a virgin, he’s worked for two years ever since he turned eighteen. “You were Paul’s boy, no one would notice. I didn’t, and I can tell you that I care about the minimal details,” Louis leans back in his seat. “How many customers would you have a day?”

“Sometimes three-”

“Sometimes,” Louis cuts him off.

“Two was the regular amount.”

“You’re nearly untouched,” Louis tells him, and Zayn doesn’t know what to reply to him, so he focuses on his cup of tea instead. He can feel Louis getting up from his seat, and in the next second, Louis is lifting his chin with his cane. “And stop looking down. If you’re gonna work under my roof, you’ll do it proudly.” Zayn stares at him as Louis retreats his cane and leaves the room, deciding to finish his cup of tea before going out.

It’s clear that breakfast time is over when he gets out. Everyone is busy with their customers, and Zayn gets the freedom of doing whatever he wants until the party Louis is throwing, so he heads for the door, smiling at the man who greeted him yesterday and gets a smile in return before he’s out of the brothel. He takes the same route Harry came from, passing by a bakery that he hadn’t noticed yesterday, and the smell of fresh pastries reminds him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet. He doesn’t own any money though, so he just passes by. What interests him is right at the end of the street, and he looks at it with big eyes, hoping he’d get a glimpse of the inside. He knows though that invitations to the theatre are expensive, but if he worked hard enough, maybe Louis can tip him with enough money that he’d be able to afford a seat.

“Do you like it?” Zayn turns his head to the side to see Harry as he nods at the theatre. “The performances?”

“I haven’t seen what they perform here yet,” he replies truthfully, but he’s still interested.

“They’re good,” there’s a hint of a smile on Harry’s face when he looks at him, “I can guarantee you that,” but he still has no money, so he just nods. “So, you’re one of Louis’ harlots now?” He asks when he comes closer, and even though there’s no more dirt on his clothes and his hair isn’t greasy anymore, Harry still manages to look far more fancier than yesterday, and Zayn manages to blink at him without staring too much.

“Much like yourself,” he finds himself mumbling.

“Ah,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it’s barely there if he’s being honest, “I see Lucy still has a big mouth,” he turns, and Zayn wants to ask if Harry was one of Louis’ harlots before and how he got a keeper so fast, but he’s already walking away, and Zayn knows very little about this place, so he finds himself reaching to Harry’s side, the latter not minding the company, and if Zayn could tell, Harry was even waiting for him to do so. “It’s weird to be outside though at that time,” he glances at Zayn, brows furrowing slightly.

“Louis’ selling me at a party,” they pass by the bakery again, and his stomach makes an embarrassing sound when he smells the fresh pastries again, blushing instantly when Harry stops, but he doesn’t look at him, instead, he looks at the different types of pastries. He orders beef pasty with a kind small smile. He pays for three, wrapped and put in a small bag as he hands them to Zayn.

“As a welcome gift,” Zayn hesitantly reaches for the bag with a ‘thanks’ and Harry turns to walk again. Hearing his stomach grumbling again, he decides to grab one and take a bite, almost moaning at the taste. He wonders if Louis would have these inside the brothel, he wishes he does. Harry doesn’t comment on his previous reply, and Zayn is about to ask him where they’re going once he’s finished the first one, but he sees Harry entering a shop, and he barely catches the name of it before he’s going inside. There’s an old man who greets Harry with a kind genuine smile, and Harry says something to him, but Zayn doesn’t hear it, too busy staring at the two wigs placed on the counter. One is white, puffed up, and the other is blonde, with a swirl that shapes a flower on the top, small curls hanging from the sides.

“I see you’ve brought me a new fan,” Zayn looks up when the voice approaches him, and the old man is smiling at him when he comes to a stop in front of him, and Zayn hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the wigs from such a close distance, fingers almost touching them. He straightens up with a blush.

“They look lovely,” he replies with a smile of his own, “you made an amazing job.”

“Well, thank you, young man,” the old man replies, glancing behind him before returning his gaze to him. “Would you like to see the entire collection?” He leans in and whispers to him, and if the spark in Zayn’s wide eyes and enthusiastic nod doesn’t give away his interest, then he’s sure his loud reply would do.

“I can?!”

The old man chuckles. “I’m sure it would take a while for the servants to arrive,” And even though Zayn doesn’t know what he’s talking about, it’s the least of his interests right now as he leaves the bag of pastries on the counter and follows the old man through another door.

The room is dark, but once the window is opened, Zayn can see everything, lips parting in awe as he takes in every wig placed around the room. They have various colors, ones that he had never seen people wearing while others are familiar. He passes by the ordinary red, black, grey, and brown, until he reaches one that catches his eyes. It’s a mix between black and white, styled perfectly for the two colors to meet in a magnificent roll on the top, braided from the back in small braids that joins the two colors as well, and Zayn is fascinated. He wants it.

“I see something have caught your eyes,” the old man smiles at him again, and Zayn nods without removing his eyes from it.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Since you’re a friend of Harry, I’ll give you a special discount,” Zayn looks at him then, not knowing if he should tell him that he barely knows Harry. “I’ll sell it to you for only ten pounds,” the old man replies with a smile, and Zayn wonders how on earth would he be able to gain all of that money.

“Thanks,” Zayn glances away, “I’m not sure I can afford it right now though.”

“Well … It’s open for the grab whenever you have the money.”

Zayn raises his brows. “You would keep it until I do?”

“As long as no one sets eyes on it first that is.” Zayn’s shoulders slump, and before he gets to say anything more, like offering half of the payment maybe to keep it for himself until he can pay the rest, someone is calling for him, and the old man motions for Zayn to follow him outside the room. He sees Harry leaning on the counter as two servants hold the wigs, moving them outside, and there’s a bag of coins handed to him by Harry as a ‘tip’ from what he can hear as he grabs the bag of pastries Harry bought for him and heads outside with Harry, sending a ‘goodbye’ to the old man before they go.

“Who are they for?” He asks casually, and Harry clearly ignore him, so he decides to eat another beef pasty. “They’re gorgeous though,” he changes the subject. “That old man is talented.”

“They’re fake,” Harry replies as he keeps walking, and Zayn frowns as he stops walking. Harry turns to him then. “What?”

“Just because you don’t like wearing them, don’t make them ugly.” Because Zayn has noted that Harry doesn’t wear them, and his disinterest in the subject is so blatant.

“Why would you want to put something like that on your hair?” Harry points at his head, “Personally, I think it looks nicer than those things,” he immediately turns and starts walking again, and Zayn huffs a breath as he follows him. It’s not that long before he has finished the bag of pastries that they reach a second shop, and just like the first one, Zayn finds himself in awe once more.

The shelves are filled with different fabrics, and as he stares, Harry is receiving an order, probably for the same person the wigs are for as the servants take the fabrics to the carriage once Harry has paid for it.

“You’d be the star then?” Zayn turns to Harry as he beckons him over, “at Louis’ party?” Zayn blinks at him, not sure if he’s going to be ‘The Star’ at Louis’ party, but the sides of Harry’s lips are tugging upwards on an easy smile. “You’ll need to impress as many people as you can, encourage them to bid higher and earn your position,” Harry clearly knows what he meant by Louis selling him, and he bites at his lower lip as he stares at Harry, still not knowing what he’s offering until Harry points at the fabrics on the shelves. “Pick something unique.”

Zayn’s eyes widen as he glances around him. “Oh. No, I can’t-”

“It’s on me,” Harry smiles, another one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Zayn wonders why Harry is doing all of that for him, what’s his gains out of this, but if Harry is paying to dress him up properly, then maybe he can take the chance while he still can. So he glances around him again, taking in the details that he hadn’t been able to in the first look, and there’s a black tulle fabric that makes him think of how to use it. He’s never worn something like it before, but he’s always thought of how to put his own twist to it away from the bustles and dresses that he occasionally sees.

“This one we just received from France,” Zayn turns his head to look at the man who sells it. “Shall I cut it for you?”

“Please do,” Harry answers for him, and Zayn stays still as the man grabs his scissors and starts cutting the fabric for him. “How would you use it?” Harry turns to him then, and Zayn blushes.

“Um … I haven’t … It’s, um …” Harry raises his brows at him and he clears his throat. “I haven’t thought about the entire outfit, It’s just … an idea in my mind,” he mumbles as he looks away, gazing at other fabrics. Harry hums, taking the fabric from the man once he’s done.

“Show me then,” Harry offers it to him with a blank expression, and Zayn doesn’t know what to say, so he takes it from him, the man staring at him as well, and he’s trying not to blush, trying not to think of what they think of him.

He folds the fabric in his hands and places it around his hips, and he avoids eye contact as he does so. “I was thinking I can get it like that. Like half of a skirt, attached with a ribbon or something …” He glances up to see Harry’s gaze on the fabric around his hips. He hums again.

“I think I’ve got the perfect costume for you,” Harry looks up at him, and Zayn stares at him silently. “There’s a tailor that can get an example to show before getting the final outcome,” he takes a step back, “stay here until I come back, okay?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns on his heels and walks away, and Zayn stands there with the shop owner, removing the fabric from around his hips and placing it on the counter again until Harry does.

When Harry returns, it’s with a man who holds a big box in his hands, and he leads them to a room at the back where Zayn explains to him his vision, showing him drawings with different socks and shoes inside a book he has, another for the shape of the outfits, and Zayn doesn’t know how much this will cost, but it’s a lot, and he can never repay Harry back, and he tells him as much when the tailor leaves and they’re outside the shop. Harry waves a dismissive hand, telling him that he’d be back right before the party begins with the outfit in hand.

When Zayn returns to the brothel, it’s way past lunch time, but he is present during dinner. The moans fortunately stopping when they go to sleep, and no one speaks to him either.

**-_-_-**

Since no one is waking him up for today either, he misses the breakfast again, waking up to moaning sounds. Dressing up quickly, he manages to get out of the brothel without a word spoken to him. He decides to wander the other side of the theatre that he didn’t get to yesterday and passes by unfamiliar faces and buildings until he sees one that he knows. There’s a girl there too, one that he doesn’t recognize, and he sees a pair of green eyes looking up at him once he steps closer yet a bit far for the girl to recognize his presence judging by how she still talks as she leans closer, and he’s able to hear her words now.

“Won’t you come see me perform tonight? I’ll even sing in French.”

“Got an extra ticket?” Harry turns to her again, and Zayn can see her turning to see him, finally noticing that Harry was looking at him for a moment. She places a hand on her hip as she keeps the other by her side, and Zayn notices the fan she’s holding, same pink color as her dress, and now that he’s able to see her face, she’s pretty, and from what he heard, she’s obviously a performer, a singer, and maybe she meant the theatre. Her skin is pale, just like Harry’s, with bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She purses her lips as she takes in his appearance before turning back to Harry.

“Alright. You can bring your friend along too. I’ll inform them to let you both in.” She doesn’t smile when she turns to him again, and Zayn keeps her stare until she’s spinning on her heels and walking away. Harry doesn’t smile at him either as he stares back, but he’s also not moving, so it’s a sign for Zayn to take the steps separating them until he’s at a fair distance.

“She performs at the theatre?”

“You wanted to watch, right?” Harry asks instead, and Zayn nods at him. “It’s at six. Be ready by then,” he tells him and turns to walk away as well, leaving Zayn to stare at his back. He doesn’t have much to do until six. It’s still too early in the morning. So he wanders the streets further, passes by a court and more buildings. He makes sure to return at lunch time.

**-_-_-**

Louis informs him that the party is being held tomorrow’s night, and that’s all he says before Zayn is able to go out. The theatre isn’t far, and he finds Harry waiting for him outside. Once they’re inside, they’re led into the upper circle, above the stage level for a better view. It’s a separate room with an open viewing area which typically seat up to five people, but he and Harry are alone inside. The lights are dim, candles decorating the deep red color of the curtains at every side, barely allowing the wood surface to show. There’re windows open at the top side, letting some of the moonlight to pass through. People are quiet before the show begins, and silent when they announce its beginning.

A boy sings first, wearing a jester’s outfit with white paint coloring his face before the girl he saw earlier takes the stage and starts to sing. Her dress is of a maid, contrasting the fancy dress she was wearing this morning, but her wig is a mix of red and orange, pulled into two braids at her sides, and it makes Zayn think of the wig maker. She must have gotten them from him. He hopes the wig he likes doesn’t interest her, because he’s sure she can buy it without the discount. Her voice is amazing, and it makes everyone clap for her when she’s done, even Harry by his side does so too, and he himself claps for her. Her performance was astonishing.

He still owns Harry his gratitude, so once they’re out, he speaks out loud to make sure he hears him over the sounds of people moving next to them. “Thank you for the invite!” Harry turns to him and nods, and Zayn bites on his bottom lip when Harry turns back. “The party is tomorrow, by the way,” Harry turns to him again, “Starts at seven.”

“Alright,” Harry nods at him again, and he notices his carriage waiting for him a couple of feet away. He doesn’t invite him to ride with him this time, and Zayn watches it leave before he returns to the brothel. Thankfully, he’s back by dinner time.

**-_-_-**

For the first time, he’s being woken up by Lucy for breakfast instead of moaning sounds, and when they’re done eating, Louis gives each a task to finish the preparations for the party. The door is closed most of the times, excluding the ones who come knocking then are sent off by the kind man who Zayn got to know the name of by now. He’s Mr. Jackson, and his name might be the only thing Zayn knows about the man other than the fact that he works for Louis and isn’t a harlot.

He’s moving one of the chairs when he hears loud laughs from the door, and once he turns, Harry is there, barely a smile on his lips as he talks to three of the harlots working here, two of which Zayn doesn’t know that names of. There’s a box in his hands, a big one, and Zayn guesses it holds the outfit, finished by now. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at the box for too long that when Harry moves away from the people and closer to him, he’s still holding the chair up.

“Need help with that?” Harry nods at the chair, and Zayn blushes slightly as he moves it finally against the wall.

“I’m okay.”

“Nervous?”

Zayn frowns. “It’s not the first time for me.”

“It is though,” Harry taps his fingers at the box he’s holding, and it makes Zayn pause for a second. “Want to try it on? See the fittings before the party starts?”

“I’m supposed to be-” Zayn glances around him, “If Louis knew I’m slacking off at my first day … I don’t want to give him a bad impression.”

“He wouldn’t say a word,” Harry rolls his eyes, already turning on his heels. “C’mon.” Zayn gapes at his back for a moment before glancing around him again then deciding to follow Harry upstairs. Harry gives him the box before returning downstairs, leaving him alone in his room for some privacy. And he’s right. He’s never tried to dress like that, and he might be nervous to actually get down in front of people, but he rubs his hands together and opens the box, seeing the black shoes on top of everything, and he carefully sets them on the bed, not really knowing if Harry would allow him to keep them or he’s taking everything back once the party is over.

The second item he picks are black socks as well, silver satin ribbons at the end, longer than he’d seen before, and he places them on the bed with furrowed brows. The black tulle fabric he picked at the shop is sewed to make half a skirt, and he gets it out slowly, eyes wide as he stares at it before placing it away. The next item makes him bite down on his lips for a long moment. The corset is something he hadn’t picked, but it looks amazing, and there are two other pieces of cloth that he doesn’t know exactly the use of, turning them up and down until he gets that those are undergarments. There’s a belt as well, a silver one, and a couple of small hair clips, and Zayn takes a deep breath as he stares at all the items on the bed. He’s not sure if it would even look good on him, and he has no idea what the other male harlots are deciding to wear.

He’s barely trying to get everything he’s wearing to fit when the door opens suddenly, and he almost trips over his own steps, eyes wide and alarmed at the door. It’s Harry, with his blank expression, eyes looking over him before he’s stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“You seem like you need a hand,” he points at his outfit, and Zayn blushes as he turns his head away. He’s fine, really, he just needs an hour or two to adjust the corset.

“It’s not what I had in mind,” he sighs.

“I know,” Harry replies as he gets closer, and Zayn drops his hands from holding the laces for Harry to do them instead. “You didn’t tell the tailor everything in your imagination,” Harry tells him as he does the laces for him, and Zayn stares at the floor instead of looking at the mirror. He doesn’t know what Harry’s expression is like, but his tone nearly makes him glance up. “So I made some adjustments myself,” Harry lifts his eyes to meet his in the mirror that Zayn feels he should lift his gaze too. “I hope you didn’t mind.” Zayn just blinks at him, not sure if he should reply to that since the outfit is already made. Harry adjusts his undergarments from behind, pulling at the leather fabric until it’s too fitting on his skin that Zayn doubts he can walk with it squeezing him before he’s adjusting the corset, a hard pull on the laces that makes Zayn gasp as Harry ties them tightly.

One item of clothing that Zayn didn’t know how exactly to put on, Harry picks, and he places it around his shoulders to wrap around his neck as well, ending with a thin ribbon tied gently at the front side of his neck. The tulle skirt is then tied around his waist, supported with the silver belt, and he’s on his own to put the socks and the shoes on, the heels making him at Harry’s height, but a bit weird to walk with since he’s not used to them. They look nice though, and Zayn wonders if he can just stand there like some sort of a painting that people look at before someone chooses him instead of actually doing anything that involves walking. Harry steps backwards as he looks over him again.

“There. You look outstanding.”

Zayn tries to breathe with the corset on. “Thanks.”

And it’s like Harry reading his mind when he says, “I’ll leave you to get comfortable in it,” he steps closer to the door and opens it, “and don’t worry, Louis wouldn’t call you again until it’s time for your presentation,” with that he’s gone, the door closing after him, and Zayn sighs, turning to look at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before trying to stretch his legs and walking in the small area that is his room.

He stays in his room until there are noises from downstairs indicating that more guests are coming in, and he takes glances from his window behind the curtains to see who is arriving. Men and women from all different shapes and colors. He barely opens the door to step out to find Harry pulling him to the side, a bit hidden by the wall before the stairs. Zayn realizes it gives him a great view of the main hallway, seeing everyone clearly.

“What’s your number?” Harry asks quietly from behind him, and Zayn frowns as he turns to him.

“Do each of the harlots have a turn to go?”

Harry blinks at him, lips parting and closing, and Zayn doesn’t know what he said wrong. “I was asking about your penis size.”

“Oh,” Zayn blinks twice, turning forwards again with flushed cheeks. “I’m … six,” he clears his throat afterwards, not knowing why saying it to Harry makes him uncomfortable. Harry is a harlot too, and from what Louis told him, it’s clearly a competition here. He seems like he wants to brag but can’t make himself lie, he’s not the best at doing that, and it’s not like his body is reserved. Everyone is going to know about every part of him very soon.

Harry only hums to that. “Do you see the lady in black?” He asks as a woman passes the hallway, dark lips and dark eyes, and she walks like she owns the place with a permanent smirk on her face. “You definitely want to avoid her. She has a kink for pretty people and is ready to pay a lot for her pleasure.” _Did Harry call him pretty?_ “You’ll have never stopping nightmares about the one night she spends with you.” And before Zayn gets to ask if Harry tries sleeping with her before or how he knows this information, he keeps talking. “The lady in pink is called Rosy, and she’ll like you instantly once you call her by her name, makes her feel important enough that you asked around for her. She’s sweet though, fast to come, and will let you go by her third orgasm. Charm her and you win.” Zayn nods slowly as he watches Rosy laughing at something Louis says to her with a drink in her hand. “What’s your score?” Zayn pauses, brows furrowing at the question.

“I have … never really counted how many people I slept with.” Why is Harry even asking him that? He’s been doing this for two whole years. Again, Harry is silent for a moment, and he’s staring ahead of him when Zayn glances quickly at him. Zayn already knows he’s got the wrong answer.

“Your score, Zayn, is how much you can take up your ass,” Harry replies as he looks down at him. “You don’t want to make your experience here too bad.”

“Oh,” Zayn repeats, another blush taking over his face. “I took a seven once with proper preparation.”

Harry huffs a breath behind him, and it’s close to a laugh that makes Zayn almost turn to see it for himself. “You’re a harlot. There’s no such thing as proper preparation.” Zayn presses his lips together at his reply, watching as a man passes the hallway. “That is not someone you’ll be able to handle. He’s too rough,” he says, and Zayn wonders if he should just stay in his room since apparently, lots of people would be out of his reach. “That however,” he says as another one passes, tall and skinny, with pale skin that is covered with powder, “is six, and would make a good companion. You can even take him as a regular afterwards.”

Zayn turns to him then. “If someone paid for me, Louis would take the highest bid. I don’t really get to choose, do I?” He raises his brows with his question, and Harry is staring at him with a blank expression.

“You’ll find yourself doing the impossible to stay unharmed.” The reply is cold, and he watches Harry as he walks around him to get downstairs. He doesn’t know Harry’s intentions yet, if he’s taking his share from Louis when he’s sold or if he actually cares, so he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, hoping that he just fits enough into this place before he’s heading downstairs as well.

With a smile and a soft touch, he starts to greet the guests. He sees Lucy giving him a smile when he passes her, giving him a glass of wine to ease his nerves. He doesn’t stay for too long with one person, realizing that he needs to charm as many as possible tonight with a promise of later, never letting their touch linger, never allowing someone to go too far, and even when he’s with the ladies, no one comments on his outfit as something bizarre, and he hears compliments more often instead, but never a word from the harlots working here. Louis’ eyes are everywhere, keeping his harlots on check as well as everything else inside the brothel, and he’s unable to read them when they look his way. A man with a strong built passes the hallway, and he catches Harry’s gaze across the room. He is shaking his head, and Zayn understands with another glance at the man that Harry was right as he tries to walk backwards, far from the man to not lock eyes with him, to not be seen, but when he turns, there’s a man that Harry also told him not to go for, and he’s turning Zayn’s way too, and he just stands there with his eyes fixed on the man’s figure until there’s a body blocking his view, and Zayn sighs out of relief. It’s none other than Harry, and he needs to thank him later, but for now, he slips away easily.

The night goes on and he barely has a second drink, his shoes discarded on the floor as he talks and laughs some more with Lucy and two ladies and a man, not bothering to remember all their names since Lucy does the job for him. He’s realized that Lucy is the only one so far to talk to him, and he wonders if it’s because Louis has ordered her to do so. Lucy elbows him and winks, and he has a couple of minutes to look and see Louis motioning for him. He gathers his shoes quickly, blowing air kisses at the guests before he’s getting inside a closed room with Louis, a couple of empty glasses on a small table at the corner, and it’s so similar to his room that he guesses it belongs to another harlot.

“You’ve been sold,” it brings his attention back on Louis, “for fifty pounds,” he continues as he hands him a condom, “his name is Mr. John. I believe you’ve encountered him many times throughout the night. He’s with the grey wig and blue coat and white waistcoat, green eyes, an inch or two taller than yourself,” he points at his shoes, still held in his hands, and Zayn quickly reaches down to put them on. “It’s not the highest price I’ve been paid for a first time, but you wouldn’t want to wait for other people to bid on you.” Zayn looks up at him, knowing that Louis could have forced him in front of everyone, allowing the bids from whoever it was, but he’s thankful he didn’t, so he nods at him. Fifty pounds are actually a big amount for his fake virginity. He knows he doesn’t have a share in it since Louis doesn’t give him anything more. “You’ll be leaving right now to his house. Once he tells you to go, you’re free to come back, and make sure he wears the condom.” Zayn nods again and leaves with him until they’re outside, Mr. John is waiting inside the carriage.

He smiles at him, trying to start a conversation about anything, but Mr. John beats him to it, complementing his looks for the ride. It’s a troublesome to get his outfit undone when they arrive at his house. He’s being circled like a prey, or even a statue to admire before he’s undressing, eyes on him the whole time, lips on his skin as well, and his socks are still on when he’s fucked into the mattress, with no preparation whatsoever, but it doesn’t hurt that much, and it doesn’t last long either. He’s pulling out panting before Zayn gets to come, hand and knees on the mattress for a second go that feels like a boring round, but he has to moan for it.

It’s harder to put his outfit on again the way Harry did it, so he doesn’t bother with adjusting it too much, leaving the house when Mr. John is asleep, a carriage waiting to take him back to the brothel. When he arrives, it’s quiet, and he doesn’t glance at the clock inside Louis’ room. Most harlots are drunk and unconscious on different areas. The kitchen, on the floor, half bent on a couch that Zayn bets it would hurt in the morning, and there are a few passed out on their beds. He sees Louis still wide awake when he reaches the stairs, taking a sip of water. He glances at him but doesn’t say much as he returns to his own room, and Zayn does the same, going upstairs to his room, glad that his bed is untouched although the room reeks of alcohol, a couple of stains on the floor. Since nothing is being put to its place, he figures that all of them would work to get it cleaned up tomorrow, so he drops on his bed, carefully taking off his clothes and folding them back inside the box that Harry has brought them in before he’s sleeping.

**-_-_-**

Lucy wakes him up the next morning, with her hair a mess, and she’s yawning, her corset not on. They’re barely finishing their breakfast as Louis tells them to clear the mess in the house, and judging from how everyone looks, it’s clearly not a customer day. He’s sweeping the floor by the door when he notices a familiar brown hair going round the corner, and he remembers that hasn’t thanked Harry properly for what he’d done for him, so he glances behind him, seeing the floor clean, and he guesses that a couple of minutes away won’t do any harm. Mr. Jackson doesn’t say anything to him when he passes by.

“Harry!” He’s fetching something again today, and Zayn catches the hat on his hands before Harry turns to him when he calls his name. He hands the hat to someone next to him once Zayn comes to stop in front of him.

“How was your first time?”

Zayn frowns for a second. “It wasn’t my first time.”

“It is around here,” Harry replies, and Zayn nearly rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t … too bad.”

“Considering that you’ve slept with Mr. John, I’d say you should take it as extremely good.” Zayn frowns again at that. He gets what Harry is referring to a minute late though.

“Anyway … I’ve come to thank you. You know, for the outfit and … everything else you’ve done for me,” he places both of his hands behind his back for something to do with them instead of waving them around. “And I’m sorry if I had mistaken you for a horrible person at first,” he mumbles, eyes darting away.

“I see. So you’ve thought of me as a horrible person.” The tone is light, and he can take it as being sarcastic, but when he looks back at Harry’s face, it’s void of emotions that he can’t tell anymore. His eyes widen a little with his next reply.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way-”

“Harry!” Another voice cuts him off, and he looks to the side to see a girl coming their way, a bright smile on her face with a full plate in her hand. “I barely see you around here anymore!” She looks to the person holding the hat still. “You’re still fetching her stuff, I see,” she turns back to Harry and Zayn wonders who she means. It’s probably the same one he was getting those fabrics and wigs for. “I’ve made your favorite chocolate pudding! Finally getting to master my mum’s recipe,” she gives him the plate.

“Thank you,” he replies politely, “would you like a taste?” The girl turns to him with a frown, and Zayn doesn’t realize that the question is actually directed to him until he’s turning to see Harry with a fork in his hand, offering him a bite. He parts hips lips silently as he blinks at Harry, but he’s still holding out the fork for him, so he leans forwards and bites on it, and god does it tastes so delicious. Before he can even finish the piece in his mouth, Harry is handing him the entire plate. “I should be on my way,” he informs them both, and he watches him getting to his carriage as he grabs the fork, but it’s taken away from him quicker than he can register.

“It wasn’t made for you!” The girl scoffs at him as she looks over him. “Who are you anyway?!” She asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer, and Zayn watches her turn on her heels and entering the tavern with a frown. _What’s wrong with her?_

“Look who’s slaking around,” he quickly turns when he hears Lucy’s voice from behind him, eyes wide, but she laughs at his expression when she approaches him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Louis,” she grabs his elbow and leads him away. “Come, the kitchen is a mess, and the cook can only do so much, so we’re picking the vegetables for him,” she winks at him as she takes a different route. From what he can notice, the route she takes is longer than if she went straight from another, and when she picks the vegetables they need, she also takes the same route back. He guesses it’s for a reason.

“You like this street?”

“What?” She gives him a weird look.

“You’re taking that route instead of the other shorter one.” _Does she not want to get back to the brothel?_

She laughs. “There’s another Brothel here,” she points behind her back, “if they see us there, they’ll never shut their filthy mouths, and Louis wouldn’t be happy about it either.”

“Oh.” They pass by the tavern again, and he glances at it with a frown, hearing Lucy’s laugh again.

“Her name is Pattie, she’s the daughter of the owner,” she tells him, and he turns to her. “When Harry was still a harlot working around here, she’d offer him free meals and drinks everyday,” she wiggles her brows. “She’s in love,” she whispers, “but Harry is taken, and he’d never leave his keeper for a daughter of a tavern’s owner.” Zayn furrows his brows at her when she stops.

“Does he love her back?”

“Harry doesn’t love,” she replies. “Now go back to the brothel, I need to get something fast,” she waves him away, and he’s not allowed to ask her about it since he, himself, wanders around quite often. What she says sticks in his mind for a while as he decides to round the streets again, taking the vegetables shopping as an excuse to not go back early. He passes by a stable, and he sees a horse trying to sniff what he has, so he smiles, deciding that one carrot won’t be noticed if it’s missing.

“Ah, getting into trouble again,” Zayn turns to the tired sigh released from his side, seeing a man working there shaking his head at the horse.

“Making a friend more likely,” Zayn corrects as he smiles at the horse. He’s always loved animals.

“It only wants your food, mate,” the man chuckles at him, and now that he’s closer, Zayn can see him properly. He’s got blond hair, green eyes, and a very fit body, with sleeves pulled up and shirt slightly opened. He’s taller too, and he blushes when the man smiles at him. “I’m Connor,” he wipes his hand on his trousers, right above his boots before extending his arm.

“Zayn,” he shakes his hand.

“You must be new around here. Would have remembered such face.”

Zayn blushes again with a smile and nods. “Yeah.” The horse finishes the carrot, and he takes a step back. “I really need to go, but pleasure meeting you.”

“Would I see you around?”

Zayn smiles as he turns, “Probably.”

Lucy is back at the same time he’s back as well, and when they’re done with cleaning and have changed themselves, the sun is still in the sky, and Lucy hands him a condom before there’s a man inside his room. Guess it’s not a customer free day after all.

**-_-_-**

Lucy wakes him up again, properly dressed this time, and he’s down for breakfast. The silent morning is something that he can’t decide so far if he likes it or not, but as he takes his plate back to the kitchen himself, he stays behind a little, watching the cook he’s come to know as Mr. Arthur cleaning the place around. He smiles openly at him when Zayn sets his plate down quietly on the table.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“I’m sure there is plenty on your plate already,” he replies, glancing at Zayn’s plate, “and it’s not that one,” he chuckles. Zayn smiles back at him.

“Anything I can get you from the market?” He asks slowly, eyes getting bigger when he asks, and the cook laughs at him.

“Pretty sure you can melt hearts with those eyes of yours,” he shakes his head, “too soon for you to be out. Already hating this place?” It makes Zayn frown.

“No, I- I didn’t mean it like that,” the cook waves a hand at him, a permanent smile on his lips.

“Maybe I can use more flour to make dessert for tonight. Louis always likes something sweet with his night tea as he reads his books,” he places both hands on his hips and grins at Zayn. “Fresh morning air has always been lovely, but as you can see,” he waves a hand across the kitchen, “I have so much to do,” he winks at him, and Zayn grins back. He gives him the required amount of money and he leaves with it quickly before Lucy, Louis, or any other harlot notices him.

He skips the route Lucy had taken the day before and decides to go through the one she didn’t go for. He’s careful though, half hiding behind a brick wall to see the brothel Lucy talked about. It’s still early, but the doors are already opened, the building so distinguished from the others around it, and Zayn can barely see what’s inside from the little opening the door provides, and he’s thinking about taking a closer look, just walking down the street. It’s not like anybody knows him yet.

“Do you want Louis to kill you?”

He almost jumps, eyes closing and breath hitching as a reaction to the low whisper in his ear. He turns and opens his eyes, an exhale leaving him as he puts his hands down, barely noticing it came up to hold his chest. Harry’s eyes look amused despite the fact that his lips aren’t forming a smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s not like they know me,” Zayn protests, crosses his arms over his chest along with his frown.

“Do you think that whoever sleeps with you _only_ sleeps with you?” Zayn opens his mouth to respond, but he already knows the answer, so he closes it right away, gaze looking away. “How are you out during this time anyway?” Harry narrows his eyes at him and Zayn shrugs.

“I’m out to buy something.” Harry hums, raising his brows in a way that tells him he’s not buying it. “I really am!”

Harry steps away. “Don’t get Louis to have his eyes on you more than he should.”

“I’m not slacking.”

“I didn’t say you are,” Harry replies. “What are you buying?”

“Flour.”

“And you know where to get that?” Zayn blinks at him twice. _No_. Harry sighs and motions for him to follow. They reach the market place, and Harry pays for a worker there to carry it back, and Zayn voices his protests.

“I can carry it my own. It’s not that heavy.”

“You’re going to be busy carrying other things,” Harry replies as he pulls him by the arm to keep walking, and he frowns at that. They reach the same shop they have visited a few days before, and Harry is handed a box that he soon hands it to Zayn without opening it. Curious, he removes the cover, eyes instantly widen before he’s able to pick any item out. He hands it back to Harry with a shake of his head.

“I can’t accept that.”

“It’s tailored for you.”

Zayn looks up into Harry’s eyes. “I can never pay you back for all of this. What you’ve given me is enough.”

“Who said anything about paying me back?” Zayn furrows his brows. He really wants to explore what’s inside the box, the red fabric had already caught his eyes, but he can’t. He doesn’t know why Harry would spend so much money on him. “You’ll need something to wear.” It makes Zayn’s confusion grow.

“Wear? For what?” Harry closes the box again instead of replying, handing it to Zayn once more.

“You’ll be late,” Harry reminds him and heads outside the door, and Zayn hurries after him, seeing the worker still outside as well waiting for them to finish, and Zayn somewhat feels guilty for it. Harry stops again when they’re near the theatre and turns to him. “Would you be interested to see another performance?”

Zayn stops as well, blinks at him with a furrow of his brows. “I’m not free anymore, and I doubt I’ll be able to sneak out.”

“Louis doesn’t put a curfew on his harlots.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Once you’ve completed the number of customers you’re free to go.”

“There’s a certain number for customers?”

For the second time, Harry looks at him like he’s about to say something but decides against it, lips parting then closing on nothing. “It starts late tonight so you’re able to come. At nine,” he tells him as he glances down at the box in his hands. “And don’t wear that,” he reminds him, which makes Zayn want to question what it is for, but Harry doesn’t give him any more details as he turns on his heels and leaves, and Zayn can’t follow him anymore, the street leading to the brothel is right here, so he turns with the worker, thanking him when they arrive. Thankfully, Louis isn’t there when he arrives, and he doesn’t have time to see what’s inside the box just yet, so he places it inside his closet, right next to the other one.

Louis gives him enough time to prepare himself before having a customer, and he tries to get it over with quickly, clenching tightly and moving faster, and he barely gets hard twice, never reaching an orgasm before they do, and the day goes on like that until it’s night, and he cleans himself, trying to be dressed properly before he’s going out of the door.

Harry is there when he arrives, and again, they’re led into the same room, with no one else to sit with them. No one is singing tonight, it appears. Instead, there are a group of people with different musical instruments, and it only takes the first play of the violin to get Zayn hooked. The man on the piano come shortly after, eyes focusing on the keys as he plays, and the rest follows soon after, the cello, the harp, and the saxophone, and Zayn has never witnessed anything like it, has never had the chance to sit and admire music as it plays in front of him for long hours that he never wants them to end. Sadly, it ends though, with a final play of the violin that makes the crowd, including himself and Harry, clap for it. When they’re out, he thanks Harry for the opportunity, and he gets a short response before he’s leaving in his carriage and Zayn’s walking back to the brothel. He doesn’t open the box still, just sleeps.

**-_-_-**

He’s leaning on the handrail at the top of the stairs during a short break between customers when Louis announces he’s invited to a high-class party. He’ll be out during the night so they won’t have any customers, and he calls for Lucy, saying that she’ll accompany him before he’s also being called to his office room.

“It’s an opportunity for you to show in front of all those wealthy people. Lots of nobles would be there,” he’s turning his back to him, so he can’t really see his expression, but Louis’ voice has always been the same. He’s not sure if he’d seen him laughing or crying and he’s guessing he won’t ever see him like that anyway. There’s a similarity between him and Harry in that matter. “It’s not like the party we hosted here. You need to behave more and,” he finally turns to him, looking over his outfit, “wear something that looks fancy enough,” he pauses. “That one you wore during the party even would be okay.”

“I can wear that?” Zayn furrows his brows.

“They’ll know you’re with me. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I’ve seen how people admire you in certain style of clothing,” he turns again, leaving Zayn to stare at his back. “That’s all. You can go now,” he tells him, and Zayn obliges, going up to his room again.

The box still remains unopened, and he guesses that Harry knew Louis is invited and he’ll take him along since he’s the new face he needs to put on the table. He doesn’t mind. Going out and seeing the rest of the world isn’t harming him. He gets to open it once the customers stop, and Lucy closes the door behind the last one telling him to get ready. There’s a piece of paper on top of everything, and when he opens it, it’s a quick drawing of how the outfit should be worn, and Zayn guesses that Harry knew he won’t be able to get it done himself, and he’s truly thankful for it as he places it to the side and glances at it with each item out. The whole outfit is in red. There’s a cloak with a hood that he gets out first, buttons on the front, then, like the previous outfit Harry got him, the top is one-piece to go between his legs as well. It’s red, with golden patterns that make it look dazzling, giving it a bit of a glittery-semblance. It’s fitting on his body, easy to tie from the back as the ribbon is placed on his waist, but it’s cut high from the waist as well that he doubts he can actually go out dressed like that. It has a high collar that is tied with a button on the front, and it’s sleeveless.

The mittens are light, lace-covered, and goes a bit higher than his elbows. The overskirt is puffed up from the back, tied to his waist, and the socks are high like the other ones too, reaching to his mid-thighs. There are thin ribbons to tie above them, and he puts on his shoes, brushes his hair, before going back to the drawing to find that he’s not missing anything. The box isn’t empty though. There’s a red pomade that he hesitates before deciding to apply it, and he closes the box afterwards with a final look in the mirror. He’s about to put on the clock when the door opens, and Lucy stands there in a mix of orange and white gown, her hair is pulled up with a couple of feathers framing it, and he notices a necklace around her neck too. Her cheeks are painted with rouge, lips looking more pink than usual, and there’s a beauty patch right below her left eye. She looks pretty.

“He dresses you up like his own doll.” Her tone isn’t light, isn’t playful, and when he looks into her eyes, they’re not their normal sparkling selves, and he doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t have time to ask though, because Louis is calling for them, and she leaves. He quickly buttons down his cloak before getting downstairs as well. Louis merely glances at them as they get inside the carriage, and while the ride is completely silent, he feels the air heavier than usual.

Their destination is an hour-long ride, and he finds himself staring at a mansion, plenty of carriages await their turn for each of the guests to be welcomed properly and led inside. From a distance, he sees Harry getting out of one of the carriages, dressed all in black with golden patterns similar to his. He almost looks royal. But he isn’t alone, turning and offering a hand to a lady to help her get out, and Zayn knows from how she looks that _she_ is Harry’s keeper. Even from afar, Zayn can clearly see she’s beautiful, no more than thirty, pearls around her neck and diamonds on her fingers and ears. Her gown is white with blue floral pattern at the edges. They go inside together, and Zayn just blinks at them, feeling their own carriage moving in line.

When they get inside, the first thing that Zayn notices is how many servants going around with food and drinks, three of them pass right in front of him, but Louis declines, and it’s like they’re invisible behind him as they don’t offer them anything. It makes him frown for a while before getting to the main hall. A lady greets Louis with a French accent, a laugh so loud that almost makes him cringe visibly. Her dress is so tight that he thinks at one moment, her breasts would get out for relief. He keeps the thought to himself though.

Glancing to the side where more laughs can be heard, there is a group of people sitting together, all rich judging from their outfits and jewels, but that’s not what catches his eyes. Between the group, there is a naked man on his knees, and the lady pats his head like he’s a dog. He doesn’t realize he’s staring too hard with his lips parted until Lucy is pulling him away. When he turns his head, a group of women are standing in the middle like they’re frozen, like a live painting, naked, and Zayn is starting to get what Louis meant by it being a different type of party. The lady that is still by Louis’ side turns to Lucy instead, whispering something in her ears before putting something in Louis’ hand. He doesn’t see or hear anything, but Lucy is smiling as she goes along with her. She sits in her lap, laughing some more with the lady, and he hears her calling for someone else, another girl, that kneels immediately in front of her as Lucy gets off her lap to sit beside her. She tells the girl something then laughs along with everyone while the girl stays silent, and Zayn can only guess what she says.

“Do you want me to introduce you?” Louis turns to him, and he finds himself clutching the inside of his cloak. Introduce him. More like putting him in front of all those people like the lady did with the girl. He’s fine with sleeping with whoever, but he can’t take public humiliation.

“I’m fine,” he replies quickly.

“Don’t wander too far,” Louis tells him and turns on his heels, and Zayn stays there, taking deep breaths, before he’s walking as far as he can from those people.

There’s a table he spots with a wide variety of food placed on it, and he decides to go for it, seeing that he might not be able to taste half of what’s on the table for the rest of his life. On his way, he passes by the women who are naked and still, and they don’t even look at him, eyes focused on one spot that he believes would keep for the rest of the night. Another loud round of laughs makes his head turn before he’s able to stop himself, and he sees the man on his knees blowing someone, a lady from behind wrapping a scarf around his neck and pulling, making him choke. The man doesn’t speak, but the laughs continue, and Zayn loses his appetite, feet moving backwards until he’s outside the crowded hall.

He passes by another hall, but it’s nearly empty. A man with a blindfold and a collar sits next to a woman, and she’s murmuring something at him, voice barely above a whisper that Zayn isn’t able to hear, but he sees the man shaking a little, lips parted, and he trails his gaze down to her hand, sharp nails digging harshly into his dick, and if Louis ever decided that he’s going to be like one of those slaves, he really doesn’t know which is the best solution. Should he run away from the whole town by then? An arm pulls him backwards, and he gasps, eyes widening before he sees it’s Harry.

“Haven’t I told you before that such act would get you into trouble?” He leads him to a smaller room, an empty one, and turns to him again, and now that Zayn is able to see him this close, he looks even better in his black suit. “And why are you still wearing the cloak? It’s not meant to be worn inside.”

“I …” He clutches the inside of his cloak again, looking away and blushing. He’s not comfortable without it. He doesn’t want anyone to see him despite the fact that he’s here to bring more customers in. He’s fine with the number he has and he doesn’t want more. Doesn’t want someone that would pay to look down on him. Him revealing his outfit would make lots of eyes look his way, and he knows it’s not going to be considered as unusual thing more than it would make people want him, and he doesn’t want them wanting him. If he’s able to voice his protests to Louis, he wants to leave this place as soon as possible.

“You’re too shy for a harlot,” Harry comments and Zayn snaps his gaze up. Harry’s face is still emotionless, and his tone doesn’t clarify if he’s mocking him or giving an honest opinion.

“It’s not something I’m used to,” he replies quickly, glancing away again. “The way they treat us here,” he explains, and looks at Harry again when he hears no answer. He’s staring at him with something that Zayn can’t interpret, but he’s calmed down a bit.

“Does it fit you?” Harry asks instead, pointing at him.

“I … yeah,” he nods, “it’s … beautiful. Really.”

“Can I see it?”

Zayn stares at him for a moment before he’s unbuttoning his cloak. It’s not that Harry hasn’t seen his body before. Even if his most private parts -if he’s still able to call them private- were not seen by him, he was still the one who helped designing the outfit as well as helping him into the first one, so he keeps the cloak held by one hand as he spreads both arms, watching Harry’s gaze trail slowly on his body, motioning for him to turn, and he does. He just hums when Zayn is able to see his face again.

“Perhaps silk next time would be a better fit.”

“Next time?” Zayn asks with furrowed brows, “Harry-”

“My, my,” A voice cuts him off, and he whips his head with wide eyes to see the lady that had arrived with Harry earlier. “What a pretty thing,” she comments, and he barely corrects her that he’s not a ‘pretty thing’ but she grins and walks into the room. “So that’s what has been taking your time and my money recently.” It’s not a question, and he feels Harry walking to her, almost getting outside the room when someone else enters, a man that stops by the door, and Harry stops. “Who do you belong to?” She directs her question at him this time, and he knows what she means, but he can’t force himself to reply.

“I’ve seen him getting in with Louis,” the man answers for him, and she hums.

“Well,” she places a hand on his elbow, a spark in her eyes that he doesn’t like, “how about we have some fun then? I’m sure I’ve seen Louis just before I came here,” she grins and drags him out of the room, and Zayn barely has time to process what’s happening before he sees Louis in front of him, and just like the other lady did, she takes out a small pouch from her handbag and places it on Louis’ hand. “Enough?” She asks, and Louis opens the small pouch before looking at her and the man before looking at Zayn, and the latter looks back with wide eyes, realizing that they’re out again inside the hall, possibly pleading silently as Louis closes the pouch.

“Of course,” is his reply, and his cloak is thrown on the floor as the man grabs for him, hands everywhere on his body before they settle right below his waist on the exposed skin. His hands steady themselves on the man’s shoulders as he sits on one of the couches, bringing him on his lap, still unsure how to get his outfit undone.

“Wait, dear Donald,” she calls, and the man -Donald- pauses. “How about we make it more fun? We shall join too!” She says before he sees Harry being pushed down on the couch next to him as well. Although Harry is barely showing emotions, from the corner of his eyes, he swears he sees him annoyed. Donald brings him down closer on his lap as the lady places her arms around Harry’s neck. “Ravish me,” she doesn’t even whisper it.

“Not here, not now,” Harry replies easily, a heavy exhale leaving his nose.

“Right here, right now,” she retorts.

“No.”

“Did you just tell me no?”

“Unless you want me to piss inside of you?”

Donald hands stop, his eyes are wide matching his own, and he’s pretty sure that the entire hall is silent. He doesn’t see Harry’s face when he says it, but he hears the slap landing on his cheek afterwards.

“How dare you?!”

“Are you done?” He asks instead, tone calm, and Zayn doesn’t miss the way he lifts her up to place her on the couch instead and walking outside. She’s staring after him in shock, eyes wide and lips parted before she stands up.

“We’re leaving.”

“But I haven’t-”

“We’re leaving!” She shouts, and Donald groans before he’s pushing Zayn to land on the couch instead, and he watches them leave without taking back their money, the hall so quiet before a lady shouts for more drinks, and the laughs return.

From across the hall, Lucy looks at him with an expression that he hates, and he doesn’t even know what it means. He picks up his cloak from the floor, throwing it around his shoulders as he gets on his feet and walks away. Louis doesn’t try to stop him.

The night is still long, and he picks a full plate before locking himself in one of the rooms, deciding that he should busy himself with something instead of thinking of what the hell has happened. There’s a servant at the door that barely looks at him, and Zayn stays there after finishing his plate, staring at the ceiling as he lies on his back on one of the couches placed there until deciding to go down again, finding Louis looking for him in order for them to leave. During the ride back, Lucy still looks at him with the same expression, and he doesn’t even want to ask what it is about, so he keeps his gaze at the window, even if it’s dark and he can’t see anything.

**-_-_-**

Lucy doesn’t talk to him ever since they came back, and since she was the only one to bother with him, no one talks to him now. Plenty of people show up from the party, and besides the amount they pay Louis, he’s tipped extra guineas. Louis knows of this of course, and every tip he gets is also handed back to Louis. There’s a French harlot that keeps talking in French during the sex, and obviously, Englishmen like her for it, so she’s tipped more for it. Since he has no knowledge of French, he decides to take another route, half dressing in the outfits Harry brought him and shifting the sides, showing more emotions and taking control when he feels they would like it more, and if they tip him more than the usual amount, then the extra guinea shouldn’t go to Louis’ pockets. He knows no one opens the boxes inside his room, and mostly because the outfit doesn’t fit anyone else but him, so he places the coins between the folds of the fabrics, counting the days until he has enough money to buy the wig he wanted.

He doesn’t see Harry for the next few days, not during the day when he glances out of his window nor the night after he’s finished with customers and hanging by the theatre, and he actually worries if he’s got in trouble because of him. He has no one to ask though, no one to hear from, so whatever he thinks or does is kept to himself.

One day, the sun is shining behind his eyelids, and he’s sure he hasn’t left the curtains opened. He opens his eyes, and rudely enough, Lucy is there with a wide smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, hands behind her back, and it’s been a while since she came into his room. His body has come to wake up on its own for breakfast, and even if he misses it, someone would knock on his door, or even Louis would yell his name from behind the door, and if no one comes, the cook is nice enough to save his share. He groans and closes his eyes again, deciding that a few more minutes won’t harm him, just till he’s able to function and sleep is out of his system.

“Up and shine, darling,” she says to him, dropping something on the bed, and Zayn opens his eyes with a frown, the sound so familiar to his ears. It sends him jolting up to a sitting position once he realizes what has been placed on the bed.

“Wait,” he quickly stops her, eyes wide and breath caught in his throat. “We can share?” He offers hopefully, but she steps back with the same smile.

“Too late, sweetheart. Louis already knows. He’s waiting for you downstairs.” She leaves with that, and Zayn’s heart beats louder in his ears. He looks down at the coins he’s gathered, nine guineas, the required amount that he needs to buy the wig, and he was about to do it today, finding the wigmaker’s shop closed last night. He was so close. He gathers them inside a pouch, wondering if Lucy was the one to find them and tell and why would she do so. He was really ready to share half of them if she kept her mouth shut. Or was it Louis who found them and told her to go get him? His appearance isn’t neat at all as he hurries downstairs.

Louis isn’t looking at him when he enters his office, sitting on his chair and reading a book, and it makes him more intimidating than if he was angry maybe. He places the pouch on the small table separating them, and he knows that Louis is aware of his presence.

“I’m sorry,” he starts.

“Apologies don’t fix this, Zayn. You wouldn’t have been saying those words if you weren’t found out.” His reply is cold and calm, and Zayn gulps.

“It’s everything I’ve got,” he motions at the pouch. “I swear I haven’t gained anything more.”

“Do you know what this is called, Zayn?” He puts the book down and stares up at him, and Zayn is unable to keep his gaze, so he shifts it down instead, hands holding each other at his front. “It’s stealing,” he replies for him. “I’ve let you in my house, provided you a roof to sleep under, and food down your throat. Do you know how much it costs to buy a house? Or pay taxes? Can you protect yourself if you went on your own? Do you think that a male harlot is able to survive on his own? Would you be able to know who among the people you can sleep with and who would harm you? Can you make sure that they’ll pay you? Can you make sure that no one would steal from you?”

“No,” Zayn replies on a shaky exhale.

Louis leans back in his seat and picks his book up again. “I’m not a monster, Zayn. I’m not going to kick you out of the brothel or starve you to death or whip you for it.” Zayn looks up at that. “You’re new, and you need to know that there are some rules that you shouldn’t break. I will tolerate this act for now.”

“You would?” Zayn asks slowly.

“Of course,” he reaches for his cup of tea, taking a sip, eyes still on the pages. “You can go back to your room, have a nice relaxing bath before you eat your breakfast.”

Zayn exhales a breath of relief, and he actually smiles. “Thanks.”

“However,” _spoke too soon_. “You’ll have double the customers and no pay for this month.” He finishes his words with that, and it leaves Zayn staring at him for a long moment before dragging his feet out of his office.

One of the harlots passes him a small vial of oil, and he frowns at it.

“You’ll need the extra preparation,” he says with a smile and a pat on the shoulder before turning to leave, and Zayn stares at it while feeling a very heavy weight dropping on his shoulders. He knew Louis wouldn’t let it pass that easily.

True to his words, Louis sends him double the customers without a second look into if they’re fitting for him or not, and by the end of the day, he’s exhausted, back hurting along with his ass, and there are a few marks on his arms and legs from where they would hold him too roughly. He finds himself wandering outside the brothel late at night, passing by the wigmaker’s shop and deciding to get inside despite the fact that he owns zero money right now. The owner welcomes him with a smile and allows him to stay inside, sitting at the side as he serves his own customers.

“You were closed last night,” he starts when a customer leaves.

“Yes. I was busy,” he replies with a shrug and a smile.

“Does Harry pass by these days?”

“Harry?” He looks up at him, “He’s been away with Lady Emily for a few days, spending some time in London.”

“Lady Emily?” Zayn furrows his brows.

“His keeper,” he nods, “or mistress, if you would call her that.” It sparks Zayn’s interest as he leans forwards on his hands.

“Do you know how they came together?”

“Oh yes, I bet everyone knows by now,” he nods again, chuckling when he sees Zayn’s expression. “Oh well, since you’re new, I’d tell you,” he waves a hand as he walks closer to him. “Lady Emily is married to Sir. Edwards. They’re both from very rich families. Their marriage, however, wasn’t based on love. Sir. Edwards would stay in his house in Swindon most of the times while Lady Emily would stay here in her mansion. The families wanted heirs, and that she gave them, two healthy boys that are raised with their grandparents at Gloucester.”

“She dumped them?” Zayn frowns.

“She was forced to marry and give birth. At least she didn’t throw them away. No, she visits them regularly actually. Spent the first five years wholly with them before the poor boys were forced apart from their parents since neither could bear the other,” he shakes his head, “anyway, back to our story, being left here, I believe she met Harry when he was a fresh face in the harlots market. Had a charming smile, that lad,” he smiles, and Zayn wonders how it would look on Harry. “She fell in love, and bought him. With contract and all.”

“But he doesn’t love her back.”

The owner looks at him for a moment before shrugging. “He agreed to be hers. There must have been something that attracted him to her.”

“Her money, perhaps?”

The wigmaker chuckles, leaning back as the door of the shop opens. “He’s a smart one. Wouldn’t be surprised if he did. She made him into a noble, and basically can’t say no to him. He’s got her wrapped around his finger.”

“Who’s got who wrapped around their finger?” Zayn recognizes the lady as the one who performed at the theatre.

“The same one who’s got you wrapped around his finger as well,” the owner replies with a chuckle and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, hush you. No one got me wrapped around their finger. Now, did you get me what I asked for?”

“I’ll be right back,” he replies to her and goes through the backdoor, it’s opened, and she raises her voice for him to hear.

“I’ll finally be moving to London,” she sighs dreamily. “Imagine all those people that would come to see me perform. I might even perform in front of the queen herself.” The wigmaker comes back with two wigs, and Zayn pouts. Both are wigs that he liked and wanted to own, his heart aches to see them go to her. She thanks him and leaves, and Zayn stays pouting at the door.

“How can you let them go?”

“Sorry, kid,” the wigmaker says in a gentle tone, “but it’s the way I make my living,” he shrugs. “I was actually thinking about moving to London as well.”

“What?” Zayn furrows his brows. “What for?”

“The business there is surely livelier than here.”

“But …” He sighs, slumping into his chair.

“Oh!” He suddenly says, grabbing Zayn’s attention again. “I heard Harry’s back in town today though. Lady Emily is away to see her family after returning from London, so he’s back here instead.”

“Really? Where?”

“At Madam Olivia’s brothel,” he winks. “The late parties there are worth going to. You know, the one around the corner.” _Also known as the brothel he shouldn’t be allowed into_. Well, it looks like Harry wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon. He even guesses he’s upset with him ever since the party. Determined to fix things up, because he owes Harry so much, he thanks the wigmaker and walks the streets he’s known by now until he finds himself standing in front of the closed door of Madam Olivia’s brothel. The man opening the door for him doesn’t kick him out instantly, and he guesses that they don’t know him yet.

Just like the party in the mansion, it’s loud, and the sound of laughs alone fills the place. But everyone here is dressed properly, drinking and chattering away the night. He spots Harry right away, a girl in his lap with his hand on the small of her back. He whispers something in her ears that sends her laughing, slapping his arm playfully, and even though he can see barely half side of his face, he can tell that he’s even smiling with a drink in his hand. He seems okay, and Zayn doesn’t know why he thought he wouldn’t. It’s even too obvious that he’s having more fun here than at anywhere he’d seen him. Zayn feels out of place as the people around him seem to know each other, too familiar that they don’t need to share their bodies at the end of the night to have a good time, and as quick as he came, he turns to leave. A girl sees him, even goes to call him, but he’s not here to cause trouble, and he hurries outside the brothel, not sure why he feels his heart heavy in his chest. Harry isn’t even a friend.

He wishes he was though, wishes that someone would stick around him for more than a few days. Someone that would be there _for_ him. He misses home, misses the warm smile and the kind eyes and the strong arms that would hold him. Misses the quiet mornings and simple house with his belongings. The image is hard to imagine in his mind. Flames covering the entire picture when he tries to think of it, a figure standing there between the ashes and the smoke yelling for him to go, to leave, to find a better place. It sends a shiver down his spine more than the night’s cold air does, and he wraps his arms around himself. Maybe he should go. Surely there would be somewhere more fitting for him. Maybe he won’t have to be a harlot. Just Maybe.

He passes by the stable, and it’s not empty, a figure moving inside of it, merely a shadow on the wall that he can see from afar before he gets closer. Connor turns to see him, licking his lips before he’s smiling, dropping what’s in his hands as he walks his way. He has an easy smirk on his face that gets a smile out of Zayn as well.

“Out in the cold?” He nods with his chin inside. “C’mon in.”

“You work this late?” Zayn asks as he looks at the horses, quiet during the night.

“Extra hours to earn more money,” he shrugs. “It’s not like I have much to return home to.” Zayn turns to him then.

“You live on your own?”

“Don’t you?” He asks with a hint of confusion in his voice. It makes Zayn smile at him. He doesn’t know he’s a harlot.

“Sort of,” Zayn replies.

“Something troubling you?” He asks quietly.

“Why would you say that?”

“Just …” He shrugs, “I can be an ear to hear. A shoulder to lay on if you want.”

“Thanks,” Zayn steps inside the stable. “I’ll remember that.”

“So …” Connor steps next to him, “will I get the privilege of knowing more about you?”

“Will I get the privilege of knowing more about _you_?” Zayn counters with a cock of his brow as he turns to face him. It makes Connor chuckle, his boots scuffing against the ground when he shifts his posture. “Where are you from?”

“Born here,” Connor replies and turns to him as well.

“No family?”

“Never knew my mother. Lived with my father until I hit eighteen before he moved to the states. I have a cousin living in Virginia. Was thinking to gather some money and go there.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Connor shrugs. “Family issues?” He says it with a smile, but Zayn darts his gaze away. Maybe he wants to be on his own, maybe something here stopping him. He doesn’t think he has the right to ask further about it.

“Where do you live?”

“Rented a flat on Wellington Mews.”

“That’s a bit far,” Zayn frowns, and Connor shrugs again.

“You live nearby?” Zayn lifts his gaze to see Connor’s face. The smile hasn’t left yet. “I can walk you home if you want. Even if you live in Kentish Town,” he winks and Zayn laughs.

“Do you offer to walk everyone home even if they’re miles away?”

“Just pretty mysterious ones,” he winks again. Zayn shakes his head and turns to look at the horses instead.

“I don’t live that far. Working for Sir. Tomlinson,” he turns to look at Connor’s face again. The smile isn’t there anymore, but he’s nodding. “I’m a harlot,” he adds.

“Alright.” Zayn frowns, and Connor sees it. “I’m not judging,” he lifts both of his hands. “A man gotta earn his living,” he smiles then. “I’d still walk you to Kentish Town if you want.”

Zayn smiles too. “How sweet.”

“I mean it!” Connor elbows him lightly. “You can count on me for whatever.”

“You barely know me.”

“You’re not the type to be deceitful.”

“You can’t tell that.”

“I can read people. And you,” Connor points at him, “have very honest eyes.”

Zayn blinks at him. “And I can tell from _your_ eyes … that you’re just flirting.” He pushes himself to stand straight. “Good night.”

“You’re leaving?” Connor frowns as he comes to stand in front of him. “Not even allowing me to walk you home?”

“It’s getting late,” Zayn shakes his head, “It’s not for the best that you walk me home,” he replies as he approaches the door.

“Will I even see you again?” Connor stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“I highly doubt it. I’ll be very busy for long, long days,” he sighs as he remembers Louis’ words along with the full day he’s had. When he feels Connor’s thumb rubbing gently at his skin, he turns his gaze to his hold.

“You came at night,” Connor notes. “I can work late till you come.” It makes Zayn furrow his brows as he looks back up.

“Why would you do that for a stranger?”

“You’re not a stranger,” Connor smiles as he steps closer. “Not entirely. You don’t have to be.”

Zayn slips his hand away and turns to the door. “I need to go.”

“Do I take this as rejection?” It makes Zayn stop as he stares at the night shadows. Connor might be the only person so far to show interest in him without wanting something in return, and while he can’t give a promise for anything at all, there’s something in Connor that makes him turn again. Maybe because Connor’s life is so similar to his that he’s thinking of keeping that one person he thinks would share a relationship with, without knowing which type it might be.

“I didn’t mean that,” he replies quietly, “but it’s just … I can’t make myself force you to stay every night waiting for me when I might never come.”

“Then I’ll know where to find you,” Connor shrugs.

“You’re that interested in me?” Zayn frowns.

Connor smiles and takes a step towards him. “I told you. You have very honest eyes,” he lifts a hand to gently touch his cheek. “The type you don’t see often. The type that makes me want to know more about you. Get closer to you.”

“I’m a harlot,” Zayn reminds him when Connor leans closer.

“Doesn’t make you less human to me,” Connor frowns.

“You’re only seeing me for the second time.”

“And I’m not planning to be the last,” he smiles, and when he leans in this time, Zayn doesn’t stop him, and with the thought of seeing where this would lead to, he allows his own eyes closed when Connor’s other hand reach his waist, and he moves his own hands to grasp at Connor’s shirt when their lips meet. He’s not sure if he touches anything other than the wall colliding with his back, but he hears something hitting the ground. If he returned to find Connor waiting a third time, then there’s hope. If he returned to find that this was Connor’s only want, then he didn’t put much hope in the first place anyway. He’s learned that much.

**-_-_-**

It’s not quiet when he wakes up the next morning, but no one wakes him up either. It’s to hushed whispers and cries that he sits up on his bed frowning at the door. He follows the sounds downstairs, finding mostly everyone awake in a circle. There is a girl he’d seen in the brothel before, but just like anybody else around here, he doesn’t know her name, and their only interaction might have been passing the salt during lunch time. She’s having her face in her hands and her body is shaking visibly, her cries are muffled by her hands but are still heard. Lucy is sitting on the floor next to her with a soothing hand on the girl’s knee. There’s another harlot behind the girl holding her corset but not closing it tightly with whispers to another next to her that Louis can’t know about this and they should hurry up to cover it before he comes. While Zayn doesn’t know where Louis might have gone or when he will return, he knows it’s too early in the morning for any customers to arrive, yet their door is wide opened when he glances behind him. The truth hits him hard when he sees the crying girl holding a hand to her stomach and crying for some more.

“She’ll have to leave for the remaining months,” a familiar voice says from behind him. “Louis isn’t stupid. He’ll notice no matter what you all do.” It almost makes him laugh. No one does anything for the other, not normally. He guesses that maybe they know each other long enough to care while he’s the only outsider. “It’s too late for her. She’ll have to keep the baby.”

Zayn turns to him with a frown, seeing the same blank expression on his face. “How do you know?”

“It’s not that hard to notice.” Zayn just frowns deeper.

“And after it’s born?”

“If she’s still fit, Louis would let her in.”

“I meant what would happen to the baby?”

Harry looks at him then. “She’ll have to find someone to raise it.”

“And if she didn’t?”

“You know very well what would happen.” Zayn gulps and turns to look at the girl again. “You shouldn’t care that much.”

“I shouldn’t care?!” Zayn turns to him again, his voice raised slightly. “We’re talking about a life!” He whisper shouts.

“Unless you offer you raise it yourself?” Harry tilts his head to the side with a raise of his brows. “Just be sure that they would never do the same for you.”

Zayn turns again and crosses his arms over his chest. The girl has gotten quieter, wiping her tears and forcing her breaths to be even. A harlot’s baby has no father, and it makes his chest tightens with the thought. “Even though she uses a condom …”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. You should be thankful you don’t own a uterus.”

“Yeah but … If a condom didn’t stop her pregnancy, it might not stop other things-”

“Louis makes sure his clients are healthy. You’re doing it on a clean bed inside a clean environment, eating healthy … You shouldn’t worry.” Zayn sees flashbacks to the night before, and he gulps when he closes his eyes, remembering the stable and how unclean the environment was. He barely even knows Connor to know if he’s clean or not. He opens his eyes again when he hears footsteps behind him, and when he turns, he sees Harry’s back getting out of the door. A broken sob he hears next from the girl feels like his own.

**-_-_-**

When the night approaches, his mind doesn’t feel clearer than it was this morning, and since Louis doesn’t put restrictions on him once his day is finished, he finds himself wandering the streets again. He passes by the tavern and sees through the opened window Pattie leaning over a table. Her shoulder slump after a while and she turns to leave. When she does, he sees Harry sitting alone at the table, and even though he doesn’t seem sad, his eyes are as empty as ever, a cup placed in front of him that he’s tracing with his fingers. He doesn’t know anymore if Harry’s life is as easy as he imagined. He’s aware that Pattie might kick him out once she seems him getting in, and he doesn’t know why he’s moving his legs to get inside, but he does, falling into the chair across from Harry when Pattie isn’t looking. Harry’s never forced him to leave if he remembers well enough, and he lifts his gaze to meet his when he sits down. Zayn offers a small smile at him.

“Was just wandering around and saw you here … a bit out of it. So I thought to pass by.”

“What would you like to drink?”

Zayn frowns. “I didn’t come here for you to pay for me.”

Harry nods and turns his gaze at his cup. “What did Louis do?”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t ask around?” Zayn counters and Harry looks up again at him. With a sigh, he replies, “He’s waiting for her to come clean first. It’s what he does,” he taps quietly on the table. “If she didn’t hurry up …”

“Stop thinking about her. She wouldn’t do the same for you.”

“I’m not thinking about her,” Zayn looks at him, “I’m thinking about the baby!”

“You can’t do anything for it.”

“I can look for someone to look after it!” Zayn protests. Harry blinks at him and pushes his cup away.

“Did you have dinner yet?”

Zayn frowns as he watches Harry getting up. “No …”

“C’mon then,” he motions with his finger, and although Zayn had different plans for the night, he follows Harry outside.

“Where to?” He asks when he sees the carriage.

“A place you’d like,” Harry offers a hand himself to help him get into the carriage. Zayn stares at him for a moment before deciding to go with him.

**-_-_-**

The ride is mostly quiet, but the place isn’t that far away, and when Zayn sees their destination, he turns to Harry with wide eyes.

“Is this Lady Emily’s mansion?”

“She’s not here,” Harry replies casually as the carriage comes to a stop.

“She’s not-” Zayn mumbles as he watches Harry getting out. “That’s not my point! Why would you bring me here?!” He whisper shouts as he glances outside, refusing the hand Harry offers for him to get out as well.

“It’s where I live as well. What’s the harm of you being here?”

“What’s the harm?! What if someone tells her that you brought me here?!”

Harry sighs. “No one is gonna tell her anything.”

“Why are you so sure?” Zayn furrows his brows.

“Because I say so.” Zayn blinks at him and remembers what the wig shop owner told him about Harry and Emily. It scares him sometimes to know what power has Harry gained in a short period of time, but on the other hand, it gives him hope that somehow his fate might change to the better. Harry’s arm is still extended towards him, and he accepts it this time, taking a look at the mansion once he gets out of the carriage. The blond guy he saw many times with Harry has an expression of displeasure on his face as he approaches them, and he can’t hear the whispers between the two, but the blond guy gives up whatever argument they were having and follows a passage that leads to the garden as far as Zayn can tell.

“Why did you bring me here?” Zayn asks once they’re inside, glancing at the servants who are still awake. They don’t seem to be surprised Harry’s bringing him along.

“You had a lot on your mind. Thought to relieve you for a bit.”

“It’s not something I’m going to forget, Harry.” Harry turns to him. “I live in the same brothel that she lives in.”

“You can’t do anything for her,” he reminds him for the second time today.

“I can look for someone to take care of the baby,” Zayn repeats his words from earlier.

Harry sighs and turns around, and Zayn thinks he rolls his eyes too, but he barely catches it. He doesn’t know what to make of Harry caring about him to the extent he brings him here, but at least he knows he owes him his gratitude.

The halls seem endless, decorated with paintings and statues, and bigger than he’d seen in the other mansion. If he is to live in one, he has zero idea why he’ll need all of this space. Nonetheless, it seems like a pleasurable idea. There’s a maid who stops and smiles at Harry, and Zayn wishes to see his face then, to know if he smiles at her too, if he breaks his emotionless state, but it’s a short greeting that she leaves quickly afterwards, hurrying to someplace Zayn doesn’t know. After climbing higher and higher, Harry stops at one of the rooms and opens it. There’s a bed pressed to the wall at the end of the room, which is huge, but that is another thing to think of as he furrows his brows. There’s a vanity table at the left with a wig placed in front of the mirror, and there’s an unfinished dress near the bed. The room clearly belongs to Lady Emily.

“This is-”

“I’ll be right back,” Harry cuts him off, and he doesn’t have a chance to say anything more before Harry is out of the door again. _Why is Harry leaving him in that room specifically?_

He sighs as he stares at the closed door before he’s turning to look around the room, from the soft mattress he feels beneath his fingers and the comfortable-looking pillows to the heavy curtains hanged around the windows and the paint across the walls. He settles across the vanity table on an ottoman, staring at the white wig placed on top of it. It doesn’t seem finished, like the dress. Lady Emily must have wanted more changes to suit her taste, but in Zayn’s opinion, they look great just the way they are. He turns to look at the door and waits, his shoes tapping on the floor in the quiet room, then back at the wig and the dress. He notices a pair of white shoes discarded on the floor, like Lady Emily saw them once and threw them away. They look new, and it makes him wonder if this is really Lady Emily’s room. With another glance between the door and the wig, he decides to stand up and walk to the door, slowly opening it and having a look outside. There are no servants on this floor, it seems, and he steps out quietly to look over the stair rail.

He sees Harry’s back, or half of it at least. He’s leaned back on a wall as he talks to the same maid they had encountered earlier, and Zayn can see her blush and nervous posture as they talk. Harry shifts slightly, making it hard for Zayn to see him anymore, but he doesn’t miss how the maid falls to her knees in front of him, and he doesn’t need to know what they’ll do. It’s clearly how Harry got his way around the mansion and he doesn’t blame him. At the end of the day, they’re both harlots. So he turns to the room again and closes the door behind him. If Harry’s asking for a favor then clearly he won’t be up so fast, and Zayn’s eyes keep going to the wig every second, so with a quick glance to the door as he pushes himself off it, he figures that if everything isn’t finished yet and requires modifications, then there’s no harm if he tried it for a minute or two.

He picks up the wig carefully, placing it on his head and adjusting his hair to fit beneath it. It’s braided from the sides, tied up at the middle to leave the rest down and curled up, and Zayn adjusts the curls to fall over his shoulders. It looks nice, and he hums in satisfaction as he turns to see how it looks on him in the mirror. It feels a bit weird though with his clothes, and he glances at the door one more time before he’s turning to the unfinished dress. It’s similar to what Harry had brought him before, not looking like a dress right now, and he picks it up to have a look at it, to see if the threads are placed yet on the fabric before he decides to change his clothes quickly.

The lace pattern over the silk fabric looks beyond beautiful. There’s a small ribbon right beneath his chest area, and the fabric reaches his mid-thighs, a little more covered that the outfits he’d tried before, and he checks himself in the mirror again. It looks simple. Perhaps it’s why the dress remains unfinished, with no sleeves yet or skirt. He sits on the bed to grab at the shoes, white silk-covered that are awkwardly near his size if not a bit tight. On the vanity table, there’s a closed box, and his curiosity gets the best of him as he opens it as well, jaw dropping once he sees the diamonds inside. He’d never dreamed once in his entire life to be wearing them, and he bites on his bottom lip on thought as he picks a diamond necklace, framed with golden shapes. Just as he’s about to wear them, looking at himself in the mirror, he hears the door opening, and he freezes in his place, his reflection staring wide-eyed at him.

“I- I didn’t-” He quickly turns, the necklace still in his hands, and he sees Harry, with his neutral expression. “I swear I wasn’t stealing anything.” Harry’s eyes move on him once before he’s closing the door behind him and walking towards him, and Zayn swears his legs are betraying him, still stuck in his place from the fear and shock.

“It looks nice on you,” he comments, “the outfit,” he stands in front of him, and Zayn’s eyes get wider, his lips parted with no reply as Harry takes the necklace from his hands and closes it around his neck. Zayn wishes Harry would show any type of emotion as he does so, keeping his eyes focused on what he does as Zayn keeps his eyes focused on the green, empty orbs. A smile with the compliment would have been enough, and he guesses he just wants to see Harry’s smile because he had never seen it before. “There you go,” Harry steps backwards, and Zayn blinks at him before Harry’s eyes get the chance of meeting his and turns to the mirror instead. He’s never looked fancier. “Dinner is ready,” Harry speaks up again, snapping him out of his thoughts as he turns to him again, and Harry is already walking away.

“I … I’ll just … change this …” he looks down at himself.

“It’s not the first time you wear something like that.”

“I’m not walking around wearing her stuff,” Zayn frowns as he looks up again. “It’s … inappropriate,” he mumbles. Harry raises his brows at his reply, and Zayn blushes under his gaze. He knows he had already worn it, but still.

“No one is gonna say anything. You needn’t worry.”

“Just …” he takes a deep breath, “I’ll take a moment to change.”

Harry shrugs and leaves, and Zayn hurries to change out of his clothes and into his own. He places everything like it was before then he’s out of the room as well. Surprisingly, Harry is right outside the door, and he takes him to another room, the dining room. There’s a full table with only two chairs placed at each end, and Zayn is sure he’d need three days to finish half of it.

“All of this for just the two of us?” He asks as he sits down, glancing at the same maid he’d seen earlier, and remembering it now, Harry doesn’t even have a simple fold on his clothes, and it makes him rethink about whether or not they were doing what he thought they were doing. He decides to focus on the wide variety of food placed on the table.

“I don’t know what you like,” Harry replies simply, motioning for the maid to pour them their drinks, and Zayn sighs before he picks his knife and fork and starts eating. He’s pretty sure he’ll remember the taste of the food here forever.

Although he didn’t get the chance to taste the rest of the food, he feels so full that he’s sure he won’t need tomorrow’s breakfast. Right after they’re finished, the blond man returns and whispers something to Harry before he leaves.

“Would you be okay if I leave for a while?” Harry turns to him as he asks.

“I think it’s better if I leave now,” he glances at the clock. “It’s getting rather late, and I don’t want Louis to be more suspicious of me.”

“Would it be alright if we stop on our way then?”

Zayn furrows his brows. “I don’t think I have the right to tell you not to.” Harry looks he’s about to say something but he doesn’t, and the blond guy at the door doesn’t seem pleased to hear this at all. Harry nods at him, and they leave for the carriage once more. “Thank you,” he tells Harry once they’re inside. “It might not have made me forget the current situation, but it feels nice to know you’re thinking about me,” he smiles, but Harry doesn’t, just nods at him once more.

“You must’ve heard about me by now,” Harry speaks up once they start moving.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces,” he shrugs.

“About how I’ve got here?”

“It’s not hard to notice.”

“People’s mouths are full of lies.”

“As long as you keep silent.”

Harry turns his gaze to the window and takes a deep breath. “Half of what you heard is true. A harlot among hundreds who was able to gain a keeper,” he turns to him again, “but that never made me who I am.”

“I’m not judging you,” Zayn shakes his head.

“Ever since I got here I’ve been expanding my contacts, building my own trade. I’m not going to be a follower forever.” Zayn blinks at him in confusion.

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks, and the carriage comes to a halt right afterwards.

“Here we are,” Harry looks outside the window before he’s getting out without replying to his question. Zayn doesn’t hear what they say, but he sees two faces out of four, and he notices another carriage hiding along the road near the trees, the night helping them to not be seen. Harry hands them a closed envelope and they go. He watches them leave with the blond guy before he’s getting inside the carriage once more.

“Those are your trade partners?” Harry hums, sitting across from him with the same emotionless face he wished to break numerous times before. He doesn’t speak up again, and it’s a sign that he’s not saying anything more about the subject.

“Would you wake a bit earlier tomorrow?” Harry asks as the carriage stops.

“What for?” The door is opened by the blond guy, and Harry, again, doesn’t reply to his question, so he leaves silently. They drop him off near the theatre, and he takes a walk from there to the brothel.

**-_-_-**

Zayn rolls out of bed a bit earlier, getting downstairs quietly. Mr. Jackson is awake, standing next to the door like he always does. He opens the door for him with a smile, and Zayn smiles back, eyes squinting against the morning light once he’s out. True to his words, Harry is there, and he hands him an envelope without greetings.

“What’s that?” Zayn turns the envelope in his hands.

“The name and address of the family ready to keep the girl until the baby is born,” Zayn looks up at him with wide eyes, “and is ready to raise the baby until the girl is able to get it back.”

Zayn raises his brows with a grin. “Just yesterday you didn’t even care. Did you really do this for me?”

“Just make sure Louis knows about it,” Harry says instead with the same monotone as he takes a step back. “He would hate for anyone to take what’s his without his approval.” He turns on his heels and leaves, leaving Zayn to shout after him.

“Thank you!” He’s sure Harry hears it, but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge it. He goes inside quickly, passing doors until he reaches the one he wants, and he knocks quietly, not sure if the girl is awake. Surprisingly, she is, and she opens the door with a blank face. He hands her the envelope, and she opens it with a frown. “They can help you and your baby,” her eyes widen. “Just make sure to tell Louis,” he repeats Harry’s words to her.

“How did you- Why are you doing this for me?”

Zayn shrugs. “You’re welcome,” and with that, he turns to go to his own room.

**-_-_-**

At night, he leaves the brothel like he always does, passing by a familiar place and watching as a figure comes out at the door. Connor crosses his arms over his chest, and Zayn gives him an apologetic smile.

“You didn’t show up last night. Made me wait forever. I even spend the night here,” he points at the stable.

“Sorry, I … I was with a friend.”

Connor furrows his brows. “You’re keeping a distance,” he notes. “Was I that bad?”

“No!” Zayn hurries to reply, “I just … You wouldn’t like my answer.”

“Try me.”

Zayn sighs. “I don’t know if you’re clean,” he says in quickly in a mumble, and Connor frowns at him.

“Clean?” He looks down at himself.

“Healthy.”

“I’ve been living well so far,” Connor keeps his frown. “Besides, you’re only seeing me at work. I’m much cleaner at home.”

Zayn blinks at him. “What?” He laughs.

“What? I only spend the night now to see you.”

Zayn shakes his head as he turns to stand next to him. “You’re not mad?”

“You have your reasons to be worried,” Connor shrugs. “Plus, I have good news for me to be mad at you.”

“You got me interested,” Zayn smiles as he turns his head to look at him.

“I have enough money now.”

“For?” Zayn cocks an eyebrow.

“Leaving this place,” Connor turns to him with a smile, but Zayn’s fall.

“Where to? Virginia?”

“No,” Connor dismisses a hand, “I wouldn’t go there. I was thinking of Pennsylvania. There’s a ship leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! You’ve already got it planned?!” Zayn turns to him wholly.

“I have nothing to stop me here,” he frowns once he sees Zayn’s expression. “I was going to tell you to come with me even.”

Zayn turns again to face the street instead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You like being a harlot so much?”

“No,” Zayn sighs. “Why would you want to take me with you?”

“Why would you want to stay? I thought I’d finally found someone to leave with. Start a new life with.” Zayn turns to him again.

“You barely know me.”

“But you’re putting hope in us, no? Why not leave this place? What do you have here?”

“Someone,” Zayn replies as he turns his head away.

“Someone? The friend you were with last night?”

“No.”

“Someone that matters that much to you?” Zayn nods. “Someone you love?”

“More than I’ll love anyone else.”

“Ouch. Could’ve told me before.”

Zayn smiles and shakes his head. “Not in that way,” he knocks their shoulders together. “He’s like a father to me.”

“Left you to be a harlot?”

Zayn shakes his head. “We parted ways on hope of finding one another later.”

“That’s what’s stopping you from leaving?”

“He knows where I am. I can’t leave.”

“Wouldn’t he want for you to have a better life if he loves you as much as you love him?”

Zayn turns to him. “Even if he wanted me to leave, I would never. I’ll wait for him even if it takes years.”

Connor sighs. “So … That’s it? This is where we’ll part ways? You won’t even think about it?”

“I won’t change my mind,” Zayn shakes his head. “Good luck on your journey.” And before Connor gets to say anything more, he pushes himself away, to not let himself hold on to someone any longer. “I’ll come to say goodbye tomorrow!” Connor nods at him, and he’s sure that if he took a walk for a couple more minutes and came back, the stable would be empty. He’s not sure why he wants Connor to stay. He’s promised himself he won’t hold on to anyone here. Won’t hold on to anyone _ever_.

Before he can reach the end of the street, he finds a pair of green eyes watching him, and he smiles despite the emotionless face he’s looking at. He’s about to say hello when Harry speaks up first.

“You work in a stable now?”

“No,” Zayn laughs. “I was seeing a friend.”

“A friend?” Harry repeats, and Zayn wishes he can see one emotion across Harry’s face, but he can’t, and he can only hear his voice, something in his tone he doesn’t like. “Money is harlot’s only friend.”

Zayn frowns. “What is friendship to you? Isn’t a friend someone you’re happy to see? Someone you like and care about? Someone you trust your secrets with?”

“You’ll learn,” Harry replies, and it makes Zayn’s frown deepen.

“Then what I am to you?” He asks quietly, staring into empty orbs he thought were changing for once. “Why did you do all those things for me? Why tell me about your trade? Why help me?”

“You were a lost person who needed guidance in order not to have his life crushed.” Zayn blinks at him, once, twice. And all he can see is a blank face still until Harry is turning to leave so his gaze falls to the brick wall behind him. He’s promised himself he won’t hold to someone, but he feels like his only escape from this life has slipped away with no return. He walks back to the brothel with Harry’s words stuck in his brain.

_Money is harlot’s only friend._

Even that he can’t have.

**-_-_-**

The next night, Zayn finds himself in Wellington Mews looking up at the buildings. He’s come here as fast as he can hoping he’s not too late. A smile stretches on his face when he sees Connor coming out of one of the doors with a bag in his hand, a furrow to his brows when he sees him, but with a smile nonetheless.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I promised I’d come to see you before you leave.”

“You took a walk all the way here?” Connor raises his brows.

“Had nothing else to do,” he shrugs.

“Came to tell me you’ve changed your mind?”

Zayn smiles and shakes his head. “You can’t force me to change my mind, and I can’t force you to change yours. What you want is far different from what I want.”

Connor sighs and glances to his side. “I have a carriage waiting for me. It’ll be a long way to St David's.”

“I’m not planning to stay long.”

Connor nods at him and leaves the bag on the floor for a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Take care, yeah?” He tells him when he pulls back. “I’d think about you often,” he winks at him as he picks up his bag again, and it makes Zayn smile as he waves his hand. He wishes he was as free as Connor, watching the carriage taking him away to an unknown fate. He stays there until he can’t see the carriage anymore, and although he knows the way home is a long one, he takes his time with it, slow steps in the cold night air that he hopes will clear his mind a bit.

There are people carrying boxes that he sees as he walks, moving them to a warehouse, and he notices the blond guy he sees often with Harry monitoring their work. If he’s not mistaken, this is the merchandise Harry is using in his trade. He hears him ordering the men to move faster before they’re seen, and Zayn isn’t stupid. He knows why exactly Harry chose this time to do his trade. Lady Emily is out of town and will be for a few more days, and while he doesn’t know what’s inside the boxes or whether it’s legal or not, he doesn’t care. Moving his legs faster to get him out of here, before he also sees Harry around and remind himself of why he needs timeout, he stops short in his tracks as he sees two guards walking his way. And if they’re walking this way, then it means that they’ll reach the blond guy and Harry’s merchandise too. There’s a split second where he decides to walk towards them, because he still remembers what Harry did for him, and he doesn’t want to be in debt to him or to anyone else. He’s done tying himself to people leaving him.

“Gentlemen,” he smiles easily, just like he does to each of his clients. “May I entertain your night?” They look at each other with furrowed brows before they look at him again as he walks closer, hand on each one of them. “Pretty sure I can please you both at the same time.”

The one he’s facing licks his lips with a tilt of his head as he shares a look with his friend, and when Zayn turns his head, he sees the blond guy looking at him, brows pulled together in his forehead. He doesn’t have time to think of what it means though and just hopes he’ll have enough time to finish moving the boxes.

**-_-_-**

Right after breakfast, the cook tells him to fetch some stuff for him, perhaps after noticing how his mood has dropped significantly. It’s been a while since he’s walked down the streets during daylight, and the sun is friendly on his skin. He’s about to take the route away from Madam Olivia’s brothel when he feels his arm grabbed and he’s pushed backwards to be met with angry eyes.

“Why did you do that?” It’s the first time Zayn ever sees an emotion on Harry’s face, but he doesn’t allow himself to think more of it.

“Repaying my debt,” Zayn replies, trying to keep his tone clear and firm and his feet holding their ground. “Ever since I came here and you’ve been offering me your hand and now I’m repaying the favor. Money is harlot’s only friend. What you’ve gained from that trade surely covers everything you’ve done.” Harry looks taken aback, and perhaps it’s the second emotion he sees from Harry, two in one day, but he doesn’t stay to know if he can get more out of him. Louis wouldn’t be happy if he’s late anyway, and he convinces himself that this is the only reason he’s hurrying back to the brothel.

**-_-_-**

The pregnant girl leaves for the family Harry has contacted them with a quick hug and a thanks, and Zayn finds himself falling into the routine of the brothel day after day. He’s come to learn Harry’s words, when he’s alone in his room with no one to talk to, or when he’s surrounded by other harlots and feels every word they speak is fake. He now knows the reason behind Harry’s blank face all the time.

Louis calls for him one day before lunch, and when he gets downstairs, he’s waiting by the door.

“There’s a carriage waiting for you outside.”

“For me?” Zayn asks in confusion.

“A client paid to have you for a day. You’re leaving for his house.”

“Who?” Zayn asks and watches Louis walking towards his room.

“Does it matter?” He throws behind him, and Zayn knows better than anyone to ask Louis more. He’s not told who he would be sleeping with these days, and he counts the days until the end of the month for Louis’ punishment to end. Mr. Jackson gives him a sympathetic smile as he passes through the door and gets into the carriage.

When the carriage stops, he gets a chance to see the place. It’s a big house near the main streets, so it must be a noble who paid for him. One that thinks the brothel is too low for his status. Zayn hates this kind. The ones who look at them in disgust but do it anyway. There’s a man outside the door who opens it for him, and once he’s inside, he hears nothing, like the house was bought for the sole purpose of having harlots here, perhaps away from his wife. Normally, Zayn would like to get it over with quickly then leave, but recently, he’s changed his opinion. Being here for extra time means that he will get less clients a day. Plus, Louis told him that this client paid for a full day. Might as well enjoy his stay.

The walls are decorated with green and gold floral patterns, and he traces them with his fingers as he walks further into the house. The windows aren’t open, but the curtains are half-way opened, allowing enough light to get to the room. The furniture looks new, clean, confirming his previous thoughts that this place is nearly untouched. The house has a second floor, and Zayn can see the stairs, where he thinks the man is. There’s a door at the side that leads to the kitchen as far as he can see, but he can’t explore that far, so he keeps his distance. There’s a console with a mirror hanged above it, and it has two flower pots next to it. On top of it, there’s a crystal bonbonniere, and on a higher shelf, a candlestick.

“I see you like the place,” a voice startles him, and Zayn frowns at his reflection when he looks up. It’s so familiar that he hates it, but he turns nonetheless to see the owner of the voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“I own this place,” he spreads his arms around him making Zayn frown deeper.

“I must be at the wrong place then,” Zayn moves a step.

“You’re not. I did pay Louis to get you here.”

Zayn narrows his eyes at him. “You used a fake name and _paid_ for me to be here?!”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry replies, and Zayn crosses his arms over his chest. Harry sighs and walks until he’s standing across from him. “Aside from what you think, I’m not here to ask a favor or to force you to do anything.” Harry’s tone is gentle, which is weird, combined with his open eyes that he sees for the first time, but Zayn finds his gaze shifting to anything else around them and he doesn’t know why it scares him so much that Harry is showing emotions to him. “First, I want to apologize for the way I addressed you before. I needed you away from me, and I needed the people around me to see and believe that.”

“Why?” Zayn turns his gaze to Harry. “What do you trade in? Illegal documents?”

“It’s not about what I trade, it’s about how I trade it that I make profit out of it. And my trade isn’t the sole reason I wanted you away. Emily already hates you, and rich people can use their money to harm whoever they please. I needed a position first to stand among them before I’m able to reply.”

“Look, I don’t care what you do. You’re not gonna hold something on me again,” Zayn pushes himself away, taking more steps towards the door. If Louis asked, then he’ll say it was a fast round and that it was the client’s wish.

“Zayn,” Harry calls for him, and he can hear his footsteps faster than his, and even though he can’t see his face, the tone he says his name with is confusing, and maybe he’s wishing to actually see if his face is matching his tone or not, but he’s not turning back. Harry can’t keep treating him gently then coldly then gently again, and he’s trying to keep his promise to himself. No ties. No matter what, no ties. Money is harlot’s only friend, and he doesn’t want anything or anyone. He’s came here for a reason, and he’ll keep his place until he’s found. But Harry seems to make it harder on him as he stands between him and the door. “Please … Would you hear the rest of my words before you go?” And Zayn doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to see another person walking out on him, doesn’t want to put hope for it to crumble again, but Harry’s eyes aren’t empty, and they make him stop. Both his movements and his thoughts.

“You haven’t tipped me.”

“What?” Harry asks in confusion.

“You haven’t tipped me,” Zayn repeats. “I can’t go back to Louis with no tips.”

Harry opens his mouth and closes it, shaking his head afterwards as he offers a hand to let Zayn inside again. He shuffles through the room before he throws an envelope on the table. “Go ahead, open it up.”

Zayn furrows his brows as he picks the envelope and opens it. It has so much money that Zayn hesitates how much he should take out. All bank notes have a higher value than he’s normally tipped, and he doesn’t know what it means for Harry to throw it away like that. Without further thoughts, he slips one out, and it’s a ten-pound note.

“Is that it?” Harry asks as Zayn places the envelope back on the table. “You’re way underappreciating yourself, do you know that?”

“Do you want me to take more?” Zayn raises his brows.

“The entire amount won’t reach your value.” Zayn blinks at him and looks away with a blush. _Did Harry just flirt with him?_ “Now that you have your tip, can we please talk?” Zayn presses his lips together and crosses his arms over his chest and waits. “Thank you,” Harry smiles when he glances at him, just a small one, but he seems relieved. “In order for you to understand why I did what I did, I’ll need to share with you something that you might feel a bit rushed, but due to recent events, I think it’s more convenient that way.” Zayn frowns. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“Do you want me to apologize for that again?” Zayn mumbles the question.

“No,” Harry answers after a pause. “That was not my point,” he sighs. “Back then, you were still fresh and new in town, and I must admit, you’ve got me interested.” His words hold two meanings, and it makes Zayn frown deeper as he looks at the small smile still present on Harry’s face. “You must’ve heard this before, but you have very honest eyes, Zayn. The type that reflects exactly who you are on the inside, and it’s not that easy to find someone like that these days. You weren’t afraid to stay like that, and it’s sad that you’ve chosen to be a harlot.”

“What I choose in none of your business.”

Harry raises both of his hands. “No need to use the aggressive way. Apparently, you’re still assuming that I mean you harm, which I’m not, and I hope this gets to you before you leave.” Zayn himself doesn’t know why he seems so defensive this time. Normally, he’d let Harry say whatever he wants then he will leave. “Zayn, the time I’ve shared with you, despite being so little, almost broke my shell I’ve been building for a while, and I find myself not minding the change at all. It motivated me to be honest, to move faster with my plans, and reach where we are now.”

“Your point?”

“You’re still not seeing it, are you? Even though you had no trouble at all getting involved with that stable boy.”

Zayn narrows his eyes at him. “Are you following me around?!”

“I might have seen you with him once or twice unintentionally. I’m not a creep.” Harry pauses. “Which shows that your decisions are a bit messed up.”

“Excuse me?!”

“He left you, didn’t he?”

Zayn frowns. “He left to chase his dreams. I’m not going to be that person who stops someone from achieving their goals in life.”

“Fair enough,” Harry nods. “You have a very kind heart to do so.” He then smiles again, “I think that adds to the list.”

“The list?”

“Of the reasons why I fell in love with you.” Zayn blinks and his eyes widen. Did Harry say he _fell in love with him?_ Looking at him with the softest eyes he’d seen from him so far? Harry Styles, the harlot who had gained it all and had his own keeper wrapped around his finger. The rich man Zayn first met when he landed foot on this town and thought would be rude but wasn’t. The handsome man who has people falling at his right and left that Zayn saw as someone way out of his league ever since their first encounter. The friend Zayn thought has gained and cared for only to lose days after when he finally thought he was able to break through his blank face, who according to his own words, didn’t exactly mean to be understood this way. Harry showed him simple gestures as well as big ones but Zayn disposed of because he was already owned. Or probably because he saw what everyone around him forced him to see, neglecting what hope he had left in those close to him. Harry Styles, with the fake name Zayn wanted to laugh at, is standing right across from him in an empty house he just bought, telling him that he fell in love with him during the little time they’ve shared, and Zayn isn’t ready to accept more feelings.

“You fell in love with me?” He asks slowly.

“Even Emily noticed it too early. When I couldn’t bear to be in the mansion and took the carriage everyday to go to town. She even tried to force me to watch you having sex with her friend because she knew how much it’ll hurt me.”

“That-” he frowns as he remembers that night in the mansion.

“I couldn’t bear to even see a hand on you.”

Zayn blinks and forces his mind to the present once more as he looks at Harry. “You were the one who put me in the spotlight in the first place,” he narrows his eyes at him.

“Because Louis wouldn’t have kept you if you didn’t shine enough, recommendation or no recommendation, and you were too shy to maintain the clients’ interest too quickly. The outfits I picked for you made you stand out, made Louis realize that you’re unique in your own way. If you’d gone to that mansion dressed normally, they’d have treated you like they treat any other harlot or servant around. Especially that you were new.” Zayn looks away, thinking of the past events now with the new information, seeing Harry from the corner of his eyes moving towards him. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t able to tell you then, but knowing you, you’d have turned to me each time, and trust me, as much as I would have loved that you do, I couldn’t let you do that. Your position is too vulnerable for anyone to penetrate easily,” he stands in front of him, and Zayn lifts his gaze when he’s close, words becoming quiet between them. “And I couldn’t watch that happen.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I don’t have to hide anymore. My trade is assuring me enough money to live on my own, and Emily’s money would never be able to buy the contacts I have now.”

“And?”

Harry furrows his brows in confusion. “And?”

“What do you want from me?”

The crease between Harry’s brows deepens as he stares at him. “To give me a chance?”

 _To give someone else a chance_. Zayn doesn’t hate Harry, perhaps a little mad of what he did, but that’s not the issue. Giving Harry a chance meaning that he’ll give the last bits of himself, and with everything that’s been going recently, he doesn’t know if his face will turn as blank as Harry’s if it didn’t work out. “You said you hated to see someone else touching me. How would you expect this to work while I’m still a harlot?”

“Not for long,” Harry smiles as he takes a step back. “I’m not leaving you now that I got you,” he looks around him. “I bought this for you anyway.”

“For me?” Zayn repeats in confusion.

“I’m buying you from Louis.”

“You’re what?” Zayn raises his brows.

“I’m buying you from Louis,” Harry repeats, but Zayn heard him the first time, and it’s not what he was asking about.

“You’ll be my keeper?” He concludes slowly. And before Harry can speak, he gives him the answer. “No. I’m not leaving the brothel.”

“What?!”

“What makes you so sure that Louis would even sell me?”

“I got my ways to convince Louis,” Harry frowns. “Why wouldn’t you want to leave the brothel? You hate being there.” _He does. So much_. “If you told me, I can help you. Maybe then it’ll prove to you that I’m not who you think I am.” Harry gives him a hopeful look, and Zayn sighs quietly.

“I’m waiting for someone. He’s the one who gave me Louis’ address, and it’s the first place he’ll look for me at.”

“You can give Louis the new address. He’s not _that_ awful.”

“You don’t get it-”

“Or we can look for him instead,” Harry cuts him off, and Zayn pauses for a minute. “If you’re willing to tell me about that person.” And it doesn’t take Zayn much to make a decision.

“His name is Paul Higgins,” he replies quickly, and Harry nods at him. “He is like a father to me,” he explains, not wanting Harry to get the same idea as Connor. “Raised me since I was a baby but … we had to part ways before I came here, and he recommended me to Louis.”

“He’s like a father to you but recommended you to Louis?” Harry frowns.

“I wasn’t a virgin when I arrived here. Being a harlot isn’t new to me.”

“It’s just weird. Thought he would be more protective of you since-”

“It was my choice,” he cuts him off before Harry gets to speak about Paul further. He hates when people conclude anything far from the truth when they don’t know their story, and they needn’t. It’s their story, and he’s free to share it or not, and now, he chooses not to, just like all the times before.

“I’ll ask around,” Harry replies finally. “I have a friend arriving from Virginia in the next couple pf days. He knows some people.”

Zayn focuses on ‘friend’ and tilts his head. “Thought that Money is harlot’s only friend?”

Harry smiles and ducks his head for a second, and it’s wide and open that reaches his eyes, and Zayn notices he has dimples for the first time since they met. They look cute on him. The smile looks good on him. “I’m not a harlot anymore. And neither will you … soon.” Harry’s smile is assuring, but he can’t help but think of the consequences. What if Louis refused? What if it didn’t work out between them? Harry can easily go back to Emily, and she _will_ take him back, Zayn is positive. Even if Harry’s trade falls apart, he can still rely on Emily’s money for eternity, and Zayn … he will be left with more open wounds than before. “Besides, that was before I confess to you my feelings, but I apologize if that made a non desirable effect on you, and I plan to erase it completely in the next few days.”

Zayn crosses his arms over his chest. “What makes you sure that I even share your feelings?”

Harry smiles again with a raise of his brows. “You mean you weren’t feeling this joy inside of you each time you see me?”

Zayn looks away. “I only knew you. You can’t rely on that.”

“And you weren’t looking for me all the time?”

“I was _not_ ,” Zayn denies.

“So,” Harry leans closer, “you’re telling me that you feel absolutely nothing when I’m that close to you?” His deep voice is quiet and slow, and Zayn wants to slip away and not to at the same time. Harry’s eyes hold more emotions than he’d ever dreamed to see, and he won’t say he didn’t think about it before, of how Harry’s face would change with his emotions and why.

“No,” he turns his head away, “I’m just giving you a chance.”

“You know, you’re hardly acting hard to get with a blush on your face,” Harry brushes a finger over his cheek, and it’s quick to go. And he can hear Harry trying. Offering his assistance as well as caring, and maybe it’s the reason he’s not slipping away just yet. “But we’ll work it with your pace,” Harry steps away, and Zayn turns to him. “Louis knows the rules. Give him the tip and he’ll leave you be for the rest of the day. Pack your things and wait for me in the morning, alright?”

“Alright,” Zayn answers with a frown. He doesn’t know how the new chapter he’s opening will be like. Harry takes another step backwards, and it means that he’s free to go, but Zayn will either give it all or nothing at all.

“What is it?” Harry asks when Zayn stares at him for a long moment.

“My client paid for a full day.”

“I’ve already told you, Louis wouldn’t bother you for the rest of the day.”

“Why not make use of the day?” Zayn shrugs, and Harry raises his brows with a chuckle.

“Not before I get to have you fully.”

“You’re talking as if I’m a property to own.”

“Zayn,” Harry sighs.

“Or is it that you still see me as a harlot who is reached by people’s hands?” Harry closes his eyes for a couple of seconds before he moves the steps he backed a moment ago and cups his face.

“A contract requires your signature in it as well and I will not make you sign it. I do not want to be seen as a keeper, and I do not feel disgusted by the fact that you’re a harlot. I was one for god’s sake. It is because I want you to feel safe and comfortable, and I cannot let you go back once I have you,” he rests his forehead with Zayn’s and closes his eyes, and Zayn can see how they softly flutter against his cheeks. “You don’t know how much I’ve waited for this, and I’m barely holding myself back.”

“Then don’t,” Zayn whispers. He’s giving it his all, and if Harry isn’t willing to do so as well, then Zayn would leave from that house right at this moment. He can already see Paul in his memories, telling him not to then smiling at him when he does. It’s always been this way, and Harry told him that he isn’t willing to change that about him. When Harry opens his eyes to look at him, Zayn understands why they remained empty all those times he’d seen him and hopes he won’t blink and everything would fade away. He wonders if this is how his own eyes seemed to be when the old man found him on that dirty road. Maybe Harry couldn’t find an old man to help him stand on his feet again, that hope he’s barely grasping at. One shot is all it takes to know if it’s real or not, and he closes his own eyes as he leans forwards, fitting his lips to Harry’s, feeling the gentle rub of Harry’s thumbs on his cheeks and the sudden intake of breath.

It feels strange how they fit, and Zayn finds his hands around Harry’s neck when he opens his eyes, watching as Harry stills in his place, eyes still closed as his hands slide from his face to the wall behind him, and he keeps his eyes closed when he feels his nose trailing over his cheekbone, lips following lightly over his skin, and he doesn’t remember anyone doing it with the same gentle way Harry’s doing it, and he feels like he wants more. More of the man that never showed true interest in anyone he’d seen so far. The thought makes him shudder, his lips parting and his eyes almost closing when Harry presses his lips to his neck, and his hands clutch at Harry’s waistcoat to bring him closer, but Harry pulls back, looking a bit dazed if Zayn isn’t one himself.

“I have so many things to finish before you arrive here again tomorrow, and you doing that again would mean that I finish none of it,” he takes another step back. “Getting you out of the brothel is my priority for now. We can do whatever you want later.”

“Fine,” Zayn huffs a breath and turns to leave, but before he closes the door behind him, he glances back to see Harry again, and he looks in the same state he’s left him a moment ago. With a smile and a blush, he closes the door behind him.

Louis doesn’t talk when he hands him the ten-pound note, and he hurries up to his room.

**-_-_-**

Zayn doesn’t own much here, and he puts both outfits Harry got him into one box and changes to his clothes he first arrived in. He’s closing the box when the door flies open, and he whips his head to see it’s Lucy.

“Leaving us so soon?”

“You could’ve knocked first,” Zayn mumbles.

Lucy sits on the bed next to the box and smiles at him, but it’s too fake, and he’s learned when she exactly does them. “Waiting for your prince in shining armor?” She flutters her eyes at him. But Zayn doesn’t reply. He’d woken up by his window with his heart in his throat until he saw Harry getting inside the brothel. His carriage awaits outside with the blond man. “What did he poison your mind with? Perhaps a love confession?” She singsongs as her fingers tap on the box. “You know, I never thought you’d be that stupid to believe him,” she stands from the bed again. “Harry Styles doesn’t love. And you’ll be thrown in the dirt once he’s done with you.” He frowns at her words. “But don’t worry,” she waves with her hand. “You won’t be the first. And you won’t be the last,” she looks over him with her lips pursed. Out of all people, Lucy wouldn’t really care for him, but the uncertainty in his mind is still present until proven otherwise.

“You’re still bitter, I see.” Zayn turns to the door again, and it’s Harry who replies to her. His face is closed, not like the one he saw yesterday, but the expression on Lucy’s face is what makes him wonder of what might have happened between the two. They seem to know each other for a long time. Harry crosses the room until he reaches him, and he takes the box first before he glances at him. “Let’s go.” Zayn doesn’t glance back at Lucy.

“Why would she say that about you?” Zayn asks once they’re in the carriage.

“Because she is the worst type of person you’ll meet.”

“And why I must assume that your words are the truth?”

Harry sighs as he looks at him. “Can we not talk about her? We’ve left the brothel, and there’s nothing left to tie us with whoever works here.”

“Why not talk about her?” Zayn crosses his arms over his chest. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing,” Harry replies. “Long story short, when she doesn’t get her way, she does everything she can to prevent others from having it.”

“And you were what she wanted?” He raises his brows.

“Why is it so hard to believe?”

Zayn hums and turns to look out of the window. “I fail to see something she’ll like to keep.”

Harry leans back in his seat with a cock of his brows. “Is that so?” Zayn hums again. “We’ll see,” he nudges Zayn’s foot with his own, and Zayn coughs to hide the laugh he was about to release.

Harry takes something out of his pocket and he hands the papers to Zayn. “This is the contract that states you’re no longer working under Louis and you’ve been sold to me. However, your signature is required for you to accept the terms once you’re sold. We can burn it for all that matters to be honest.” Zayn reaches to take the papers from him to read them, and the terms disgust him. _Was Louis really going to sell him to someone with such terms? Do everyone gets sold with those terms?_ He keeps his eyes on the words until they reach their destination. “Something else on your mind?” Harry asks him once the carriage stops and Zayn shakes his head, handing him the papers back. They get into the house, and as far as Zayn can tell, there are no major changes. Harry lights up a candle and turns to him before he places the edge of the papers near the flames and he leaves it in a plate next to it to leave it burn completely. “Louis’ got his money out of it, and he’s decent enough not to talk about it again. Do you thought I’d keep it?” He turns to him again, and all Zayn can do is blink at him, blink at the familiar red and orange eating at the papers. “I would never hold you prisoner. You’re free to go at any time, though I wish you’d stay,” he turns to him fully. “You haven’t seen the upper floor. Shall we?” he offers a hand towards the stairs and Zayn goes up first.

There are three doors, and Harry stands behind him when he reaches the first one, whispering in his ear, “close your eyes,” and Zayn complies, feeling Harry’s hand on top of his as he turns the handle to open the door and is led inside next. “Now open them.” When Zayn does, there’s a mannequin right in front of his eyes that manages to steal his gaze from the rest of the room. “Consider it as a welcome gift.”

It has a wig on top, white, grey, and platinum strands pulled into a braid from one side to the other while the rest curls to form a big swirl on top. As he drags his eyes down, he catches first on the white fur neckline, then the smooth white top and corset decorated with gold vertical lines disappearing into the big satin ribbon wrapped around the middle and joining the tulle at the back in a puffed-up style, both in white, and they reach down the floor where he finds white silk-covered shoes. “They caught your eyes at the mansion, so I thought you might like to have them for real.” He turns to Harry, and he has a small box opened containing earrings with white pearls as well as a matching necklace, and he looks up at him.

“You really bought all of this for me?”

“Why? Do I think I rented them?”

“Harry.”

Harry smiles. “I already told you before. Nothing would reach your value.”

Zayn takes the box from him. “Thank you.”

“I also want you to meet someone. He’s a friend of mine, and his presence will be very often from now on. I believe you have seen him before,” he walks to the door again, and Zayn puts the box down to follow him. They go downstairs, and Harry opens the front door to invite someone in, who apparently was standing outside for a while now. Zayn frowns at Harry’s back before he moves to the side and the blond man he’d seen him with multiple times comes to his view. He smiles this time, and Zayn blinks in shock before he regains his composure. “This is Niall Horan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Niall greets him.

“Didn’t you work for Emily?” Zayn asks instead.

“I’ve brought Ni to work with me ever since I moved with Emily,” Harry explains. “We’ve left together.”

“Oh.”

“I need to be out for a moment, so I’ll leave you two to get to know each other, alright?” He throws a smile at them both before he’s out of the house and Zayn is left to blink at his blond friend.

“We’re not gonna keep standing here all day, are we?” He has an Irish accent, and when they sit down to talk, Zayn finds out that Niall is actually a very friendly person to talk to. He’s likeable.

**-_-_-**

It’s only at night that Harry returns, and Zayn looks up from the book Niall had given him before he leaves because he thought he might want to spend his spare time doing something useful. Harry sits on the chair next to him and Zayn returns his gaze back to the book.

“Not gonna even welcome me home?”

“Niall has left a long while ago,” he tells him instead, “and I’m almost done with half of the book. The company it provides is better than humans.” He can see Harry shaking his head with a smile out of the corner of his eyes.

“I was searching for Paul Higgins.” Zayn immediately drops the book into his lap and looks up at Harry. “According to my sources, we believe that he’s currently living near Harefield,” he holds a hand up when Zayn almost jumps out of his seat. “We can go in the morning. It’s a long ride.”

Zayn sighs and slumps back into his chair. He doesn’t sleep that night, and finds himself awake too early in the morning.

**-_-_-**

The ride is long, and Zayn frowns as they pass by open farms. He has no idea why Paul would choose this place to stay at and not come to him instead. They stop at one of the farms where he can see a girl a few years older than himself standing with a kid who seems to be eight or nine. He doesn’t resemble her at all, but the way he clutches hard at her skirt tells him that he is her child.

“Morning,” he offers with a smile and a small wave to the kid who keeps to pout. “I’m Zayn,” he tells the girl.

She nods. “He’s waiting for you,” she points at the house behind her. It’s not a short distance to reach it.

“He heard of me coming?”

“I told him when you friend came here to look for him. They mentioned your name, and you fit the description.” Zayn nods at her.

“Thank you,” he tells her and turns to Harry. “I’ll go alone.” Harry stares at him for a moment before he nods at him, and Zayn walks into the farm until he reaches the house. He knocks at the door and waits for an answer, glancing behind him to see Harry crouching next to the boy as the girl stands next to him. They’re far though, and he can’t see their face expressions. He knocks at the door again when he hears no answer and goes to knock for a third time when he hears a creaking noise and it’s not from inside the house. He turns with the house’s corners until he reaches the back of it where two chairs are placed on the wooden floor. None of them is occupied, and Zayn’s gaze fall on the man leaning on the wall to stand, a warm smile spreading on his face when he notices Zayn, and Zayn runs at him, his hands squeezing the body he’s known for years and hears the chuckle as he feels an arm wrapping around his body in return.

“Couldn’t believe you’ve found me so fast.” Zayn pulls back when he feels the hand gripping a bit too tight on his back and hears the strain in his voice. When he takes a better look now, it seems that Paul was on his way to reach the front door when Zayn knocked, but his legs don’t seem to cooperate, and Zayn helps him into one of the chairs before they get to talk.

“What happened to you?”

Paul sighs. “They got my legs.” Zayn’s eyes widen. “But don’t worry. Not permanently,” he smiles at Zayn. “You spent all that time searching for me?”

“I waited at Louis’ like you told me to,” Zayn replies.

“Louis helped you?” Paul asks with raised brows, like he knows Louis wouldn’t. Zayn shakes his head.

“A friend helped me. I no longer work for Louis.” Paul furrows his brows. “He … Um, the one who found you. He bought me from Louis.”

“You got a keeper?” Paul asks with surprise.

“No, he’s …” he shrugs, “he’s not … that kind of a friend. I hope.”

“I see.”

“How did you reach here?”

Paul smiles at the question and looks at the farm. “Took a fall near Denham,” he pats his thighs. “Couldn’t stand afterwards. Luckily enough, the night and the trees stopped their view for a while. I stayed there till morning where a young boy woke me up,” he turns to him. “Reminded me of you when you stayed all night next to that deer … The boy stayed with me until his mother came. Guess she saw them looking for me, so she took me with her,” he looks back at the house. “Been looking after me ever since,” he looks back at him. “I wanted to reach you but,” he shakes his head and looks at his legs. “Cheryl can only do so much and I didn’t want to put more weight on her. It’s enough that I can’t walk on my own.”

“I don’t blame you,” Zayn tells him quietly, and Paul looks up at him with a smile. “Anyone else escaped?”

Paul sighs and shakes his head, and Zayn takes in a shaky breath. “May their souls rest in peace.” Paul looks at him again with a smile. “You got a better life in Holloway?”

“It’s okay,” Zayn shrugs.

“Louis didn’t treat you well I take it?”

“He’s treating me fairly. You were spoiling me.” Paul laughs, and it spreads a smile over Zayn’s face. He’s missed this smile.

“And that friend of yours? Wouldn’t I get to meet him?”

“I actually asked to have some alone time with you, but you can see him more often when we get back. He got a house. A nice one. Far away from the brothel.”

“Pretty sure your friend wouldn’t want me there,” he says it with a smile, but Zayn frowns.

“Then I’ll be staying here.”

Paul raises his brows. “You’ll live in a farm?”

“I can learn,” Zayn replies. “I’ll cover for both of us.”

“Zayn-”

“I’m not leaving you,” he shakes his head, “not again.”

Paul opens his mouth to say something but he’s distracted by something behind Zayn. The latter turns, seeing the boy half hiding behind the corner. “I believe you need to talk with your friend.” Zayn turns to him again before he’s standing up, patting the boy’s head as he passes by. Harry is standing with the girl, and she moves inside the house when he approaches them.

“So?”

“I’m staying.”

“The night?”

“Forever.”

Harry blinks at him in confusion. “What?”

“I’m staying here,” Zayn repeats his words, “with Paul. I’m not leaving him again.”

Harry blinks again, his frown deepening. “But I-”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Zayn cuts him off, “but I cannot leave Paul here on his own while I live with you, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Did I make a mistake by looking for him?”

“It was meant to be this way from the start. I wasn’t from Holloway, and I wasn’t planning to stay. You knew that.”

“And you’re just getting rid of me?!”

“What you want is different from what I want,” Zayn repeats the words he said before to Conner. “I’m sorry, but you already fit into life there while I don’t.”

“And this is the simplest solution you can think of? After everything I’ve done for you? After telling you my feelings?!”

“I’m not gonna favor someone I’ve just met over the person who’ve raised me!”

Harry stares at him for a long while before he asks, “this is your final decision?”

“Yes.”

Harry nods at him and turns on his heels, and Zayn keeps watching his back until it disappears inside the carriage and leaves.

**-_-_-**

It’s nearly night when Zayn spots a carriage stopping by the farm, and he frowns when the figure comes closer to reveal itself. He won’t say he’s not surprised to see Harry returning in the same day, and he’s already talking as he approaches him.

“I needed time to think,” he raises a hand. “First, I’ll get a physician to see the amount of damage that happened to Paul, then we can decide how long the treatment will take before we can move him back to town. There are many houses for rent available as well as for sale, we can get him one near us,” he stops in front of him, and all that Zayn can think about is that Harry actually returned. He watched the carriage leave as the one before it with a hope something will change, and Harry is here, back to him, explaining how to solve the issue to get him back. It gets a smile out of him.

“I don’t know if he’s willing to leave the farm.”

“Let me talk to him. I’m very good at convincing people.” Zayn shrugs, stepping to the side to let Harry in. Paul is having a cup of tea as Cheryl takes the boy to bed. Zayn clears his throat as he introduces Harry.

“This is the friend I told you about.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Harry extends a hand to shake once he’s close enough, and Paul smiles at him.

“Harry offered to get you a physician to see your leg.”

“He’s a very good physician. Known him for years,” Harry explains, and Paul nods at him.

“He’s also offering to move you to Holloway,” Zayn continues, “where you can be near us.”

“With all my respect, I really don’t see your son living in a farm.” Zayn turns to him with a frown. “But he wants to stay close to you, and I love him, and cannot stay far from him.” Zayn blushes and turns away at that, aware of Paul’s eyes at him. “I’d have taken a home near this place, but I’m running a trade, and it’d be difficult on me to run it from here, being far from the town, so I’d really appreciate it if you took our feelings in consideration before making a decision.”

“I see,” Paul replies as he puts his cup down. “If you don’t mind, can I speak to Zayn privately?”

“Sure,” Harry glances at him. “I’ll wait outside,” he points at the door and leaves, and Paul raises his brows at Zayn when the door closes.

“You haven’t told me that he’s _that_ type of friend.”

“I don’t know him for long,” Zayn defends himself.

“Yet you seem eager to move back with him,” Paul smiles. “You’re even happy he’s back.”

“It’s just-”

“You don’t need to explain it to me, son,” Paul cuts him off. “Feelings aren’t something you can describe with words,” he motions for him to sit next to him, and Zayn does. “I know what you’re afraid of, Zayn, but you’re not going to lose anyone else,” he squeezes his hand. “We’re far from that place now, and you’re all grown up,” he glances at the stairs. “I think I fell that day for a reason. Cheryl has barely anyone to help around, and Adam is too young.”

Zayn frowns. “You’re still staying?”

“I’ll come to visit if you promise you’ll return it.” Zayn chuckles. “Besides, I’m not willing to be the third wheel in the house.” It makes Zayn blush with his smile. “He cares for you. I can see it in his eyes.”

The words sink in when it comes from a person he knows cares deeply for him, and when he goes outside, Harry is nervously tapping his fingers at the wooden surface, eyes getting bigger in expectation when Zayn approaches him.

“So?” Zayn shrugs, keeping his gaze wandering over the green field, and he can already feel Harry’s nerves rising.

“He’s staying here,” he settles his gaze on Harry to see his reaction, a furrow to his brows and a twist to his lips. “And you’re going back.”

“And you?” Harry asks quietly, disappointment clear in his voice that makes Zayn actually feel bad about it, so he steps closer to him.

“Guess I’m going back with you,” he says it with a shrug, and Harry stares at him for a moment before his eyes close and he releases a breath that calms him down. Zayn bites down on his lips when he smiles at him.

“You’re the worst.”

“It was fun to see your reaction,” Zayn giggles. “Besides … You love me.”

Harry opens his eyes again and lifts a hand to push Zayn’s hair backwards. “You’re gonna be a troublesome.”

**-_-_-**

They return back to Holloway, and Harry’s promised him he’ll accompany the physician himself to make sure Paul’s condition is stable before getting back here, but Zayn is already planning to make a visit once a week.

“Welcome home,” Harry whispers from behind him, arms moving around his middle and a kiss pressed to the side of his neck.

“Thanks,” Zayn replies, turning his head to him. “You’re sweet.”

“C’mon. It’s late,” Harry untangles himself to lead him upstairs, and Zayn’s eyes move to the mannequin before the bed. “Do you think about wearing it now?”

“No,” Zayn turns to him with a smile. “I’ll try it on in the morning.” He changes his clothes to a lighter garment and drops on the bed, watching Harry do the same. His mind has been busy the other night to actually pay attention, but even under the candlelight, Harry’s body manages to catch his attention. Broad shoulders and hard abs, and Zayn turns to his side when Harry goes to pick something light to wear as well. He catches his gaze, and Zayn’s blush would be obvious if it was another time at the day.

“Would you mind if I wear less clothes tonight? I usually like to sleep naked, but …”

“No,” Zayn replies when Harry trails off. It’s still cute that Harry’s asking if it would bother him or not, and Harry climbs into bed shirtless, settling beneath the covers before he’s turning to blow the candles out, and Zayn can’t see anything more due to the heavy curtains Harry has pulled over the window, but he feels his breath when Harry settles on his side facing him.

“Feels surreal,” Harry breathes out after a moment of silence.

“What is?”

“That this whole thing worked out,” he reaches blindly for Zayn’s hand, and the latter isn’t sure if Harry’s eyes got used already to the dark that he's seeing him now. “Hopefully it isn’t just because I found Paul,” he feels Harry’s lips touching his knuckles. “Like you’re returning the favor or something.”

“It’s a bit of that too,” Zayn replies. “It’s what you do that made me trust you and know that you care for me.” He feels Harry’s smile against his knuckles again then a kiss to it.

“You don’t talk about your feelings much. Hope this place didn’t affect you that badly.” Zayn frowns. “When you came here for the first time, you had so many emotions in your eyes.”

“Maybe I don’t show them to anyone.”

“And I’m not included?”

“Maybe.” He hears Harry sigh before he feels his fingers pinching his side. “That was a blind shot.”

“I don’t need light to be seeing you. I’ve memorized every part of you by now.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Flirting will get you nowhere with me.”

Harry hums. “I beg to differ. I got you in my bed.” Zayn rolls his eyes again and turns to the other side. Harry shifts behind him, placing an arm slowly over his waist like he’s asking for permission. When Zayn doesn’t protest, he presses a bit closer, his hand rubbing gentle circles over his sleeping garment until sleep takes over them.

**-_-_-**

Zayn wakes up to Harry’s solid chest pressed behind him and their legs tangled beneath the sheets. He pushes himself up to see the clock and Harry whines. The curtains are still closed, so he rubs at his eyes to see clearer.

“Why are you awake so early?”

“It’s nine,” Zayn replies, sighing when Harry pulls him back to bed.

“So? We have nothing to do. Lemme cuddle some more.”

“Actually,” Zayn turns to him. “You promised me you’ll get a physician for Paul.”

Harry cracks his eyes open. “We can get him when we’re awake properly.”

“I’m awake _properly_ ,” Zayn pushes him away. “And I need to pee.” He leaves the bedroom to pee, and when he comes back, Harry is half-awake on the bed. His hair is curled up at every angle, and his lips are pouting slightly, and now that the sheets are pushed further away from his body, Zayn is able to see more skin and more firm muscles. He focuses on one task though, which is getting ready to leave.

**-_-_-**

“Where is he from?” Zayn whispers to Harry when they get the physician to Paul.

“Does it matter?”

“Can he … Keep this private?” Harry turns to him when he asks.

“I’ll talk to him,” he nods and turns to the physician when he’s finished his work. He’s smiling, and it’s making him relax more.

“Some minor injuries,” he assures them. “He’ll need to rest for a couple more weeks, but then he’ll be good to go.”

Zayn breathes out in relief. “Thank you.”

Harry accompanies the doctor outside the farm, and they spend some time there before leaving. Zayn making sure Paul, Cheryl, or Adam needing anything before he does.

**-_-_-**

“Your old man is something,” Harry comments once they get home. “Bet he’ll do well on the business of trade.”

“Of course he will,” Zayn turns to him. “Why? Expected something else?” He cocks an eyebrow and Harry shakes his head with a smile.

“How about you rest for a while and I’ll prepare us something to eat.”

“You can cook?” Zayn asks in surprise.

“I lived on my own for a long while,” Harry shrugs as he heads to the kitchen, and Zayn thinks of how he doesn’t know anything about Harry’s past before he came to Holloway. He’ll ask him while they eat. Or maybe later when they’re in bed. For now though, he heads upstairs to their room, his eyes catching the white outfit again, and he decides to finally try it on while Harry prepares them something to eat.

He has enough time now to complete the outfit properly, and he puts on the socks with the ribbons Harry got him along with the outfit, fitting his hair beneath the wig carefully.

“You look pretty.” Zayn turns quickly and finds Harry at the door smiling at him. “Honestly, I’m not a fan of wigs at all,” he walks towards him. “But you liked it so much,” he touches the curls at the sides of the wig. “And it looks amazing on you, don’t get me wrong. But I definitely favor your black hair on any wig.”

“Thanks,” Zayn blushes.

“Just-” Harry reaches with both hands to adjust his wig. “There you go,” he smiles at him, and Zayn wants to turn to the mirror again to see the final look, but Harry is keeping his hands at his face, gentle touches with his fingers at his skin, and the soft look in his eyes makes Zayn want more than those touches, but Harry is always taking his time, always slowing them down, never initiating something unless he’s positive Zayn wouldn’t voice a protest, and he loves him for it, so he reaches first, eyelashes fluttering close and lips connecting with lips, and even then, Harry is slow with it, taking his sweet time memorizing the moment, and it’s up to Zayn to tilt his head to deepen the kiss, pulling Harry closer by his clothes, his fingers itching to get the fabric off him to see the skin he hasn’t been able to ogle earlier. He’s not going to lie. Harry’s got a _very_ fit body, and he needs to touch. So his fingers work their way to unbutton his waistcoat, trying to get the shirt beneath off and failing. “Wait-” Harry breathes out.

“Don’t want to,” he cuts him off, connecting their lips again before Harry can get a reply out, and he thinks Harry’s hands are going to push him away when they slide off his face, but they go to hold his waist instead, pulling at him and walking until they fall on the bed. Harry’s eyes are wild and his lips are red when he hovers over him, his shirt falling to the floor in a swift movement.

“Can I take it off? Please?” Zayn blinks at him, wondering why Harry is asking to take anything off, but he follows his gaze to land on the wig he’s wearing, and he pushes himself up a little to throw it away, hands falling to Harry’s shoulders as his back feels the mattress again. Harry lowers his hips slowly, the pressure growing as he presses closer, and Zayn’s lips part on a moan, the fabric covering his groin is a bit harsh on his sensitive dick, but the throb of Harry’s bulge against it feels good nonetheless. Harry presses a kiss to his jaw before he feels the pressure of his hips gone, and he whines at the loss of contact. Harry turns him on his back to get the outfit off, and there are so many pieces connected together at the back, but he breathes out once he feels the fabric around his dick loosening. Harry is shuffling behind him for a moment before he feels his breath next to his ear, and he kisses him there before pulling away, and Zayn knows that the fur around his neck is making it impossible to reach his face and neck from the back, so he turns him again on his back and kisses his neck, Zayn’s fingers finding their way through the curls as he feels Harry’s tongue sliding at his skin, a sticky finger brushing at his entrance before slowly pushing in, and Harry sucks at his neck at the same time his finger curling inside of him, and Harry finding both of his sweet spots this fast is impressing. His eyes close on a moan, feeling a second finger at his rim before Harry leaves his prostate and starts stretching him out.

A third finger in, and Zayn wants _something_. Another pressure at his dick, maybe. But his mind goes to how long it took Harry to stretch him out properly compared to the quick stretch he makes to himself, and how _long_ his fingers are compared to his own. Harry retreats his fingers slowly, and Zayn feels his breath at his face before he talks. “Just a few days out and your ass is already turning virgin again.” Zayn opens his eyes to glare at him, but Harry’s smiling sweetly when he looks up, and he’s pushing himself off him to get the rest of his clothes off. Zayn sighs, his back resting on the bed again and closing his eyes once more, hands pushing his hair backwards to not stick to his sweaty forehead. He feels Harry’s hand at his thigh spreading his legs wider, and when he feels the sticky tip touching his rim, he almost whines again for Harry to push it inside already. But Harry doesn’t wait that long, isn’t patient like he used to be at the beginning, and he pushes in, Zayn biting down on his lip as he feels more and more of Harry inside of him, and when Harry leans over him slowly, he feels so full, parts he’s feeling for the first time, and he opens his eyes to look at Harry.

“What’s your number?”

Harry groans when he pushes in to the base, his breath is no longer even when he replies, lips close to his ears. “Nine.” Zayn blinks at the ceiling with wide eyes. “Does it hurt?” He pulls away to look at his face, and Zayn blinks at him. He’s so concerned that Zayn knows he’ll pull out if he said yes. But the pain isn’t as much as the pleasure, and his heart flutters to know that Harry cares to that point of exchanging his own pleasure for Zayn’s. “I can-”

“No,” Zayn replies before Harry can get the rest of the sentence out. “I’m fine.”

“Zayn,” Harry’s eyes are searching his face for another answer, but Zayn shakes his head at him.

“Move. Please.”

Harry nods at him and kisses his forehead before he’s moving his hips, slow rolls at first before he’s thrusting with a moderate pace, his cock brushing his prostate with every thrust putting Zayn on edge. Harry isn’t leaving his neck, placing kisses here and there with his tongue licking at his skin and mouth sucking occasionally that Zayn feels he’ll see a lot of hickey’s tomorrow. One of his hands is at his thigh, rubbing at the inside or moving to the back of his knee. The other is used for balance, and he feels Harry’s hips stuttering and his voice strained, and he knows from how strong his grip is on the sheets that he’s holding back. But Zayn is still looking for something more, and he pulls at Harry’s curls to get him to leave his neck.

“I want it all,” he tells him. “Please don’t hold back.” Harry stares at him as his hips slow down, and he nods, his dick sliding off him before he’s turning Zayn on his front, and Zayn pushes himself to his hands and knees, feeling Harry’s dick at his entrance again. Harry places a hand at his back, pressing lightly, and Zayn arches his back to it as Harry slides in again, but with a new angle that gets him deeper, and the pressure against his prostate is now heavier, and Zayn can’t be happier about it.

He’s never requested anything from customers and he wasn’t allowed to, and he adjusts his hips slightly to get the perfect angle that he wants. Harry pulls out almost all the way before he’s pushing back in, and Zayn gasps when it hits his prostate, and Harry does it again and again until Zayn can’t push his hips backwards anymore, his hands giving away and he falls to the bed, only his knees up, keeping his dick barely brushing at the sheets, a light tease that almost makes him cry, and he clenches around Harry unintentionally with every hit at his prostate, Harry moaning with it, his hips thrusting harder and deeper until Zayn feels the pleasure he can’t stop, and it’s one of few times that he gets to come while having sex with someone, and he’s missed to have that greatly, riding his high as he spills into the sheets and feeling Harry come inside of him, which feels amazing if he’s being honest. Having pleasure delivered to him and giving pleasure to his partner instead of being a one-way only sex feels more than amazing. Harry’s hips thrust a few more times as he rides his own high before pulling out slowly and dropping next to him on the bed.

His cock is still sensitive for him to be lying on his front, so he turns to the side a bit, looking down at himself. Luckily, his outfit isn’t ruined, and he’s so thankful that Harry got the bottom part of it to be undone separately, otherwise, they’d have taken forever to take the whole outfit off. He smells something strange though, and he turns to Harry with a frown.

“Do you smell that?”

Harry lazily blinks at him before his eyes go wide. “The food!”

**-_-_-**

Zayn joins Harry in the kitchen when the food isn’t burned out completely, and Harry raises his brows at him when he enters.

“You’re still wearing that?”

“It didn’t get a single stain and I like it very much,” he adjusts the wig. “Thought I looked pretty in it?”

“You do,” Harry replies quickly, “It’s just … A reminder.”

“Good,” Zayn smiles widely, hearing knocking at the door a second later. “Are you expecting someone?”

Harry nods. “Remember the friend I told you about? The one arriving from Virginia?” He wipes his hands at a towel and leaves for the door. “Niall is bringing him tonight. Which is now,” he pauses. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No …” Zayn looks down at himself.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry tells him.

“He’s your friend, I don’t want to be leaving a bad impression-”

“How are you leaving a bad impression?” Harry frowns. Zayn simply points at his outfit and Harry sighs. “I believe you look beautiful in anything you wear, and if you like something different then it’s your choice and I respect it. If my friends don’t approve of it then I could care less, but if they spoke to you in any hurtful manner, then there’ll be talk.” Zayn sighs and stays in his place, waiting for Harry to open the door.

He is greeted by Niall before someone else’s voice greets Harry as well, and Harry steps to the side to let them in. His other friend is at the same height as Harry with a deep voice as well. He’s got a beard and a brown hair pushed to the back with brown eyes, and he smiles at Zayn when he sees him.

“And who might be this beauty?”

Zayn blinks at him and Harry clears his throat as he comes to stand next to Zayn with a hand on his lower back. “This is Zayn, and he’s taken.”

“Definitely a pleasure,” his friend smiles wider without glancing at Harry even though Zayn can clearly hear the possessiveness and annoyance in his voice.

“This is Liam,” Harry introduces his friend to him.

“Nice meeting you,” Zayn offers a smile back.

“See?” Liam finally turns to Harry. “He’s got manners, unlike some.” Harry rolls his eyes and leads them to sit down.

“We haven’t eaten yet, so you’ll be joining us,” Harry informs both of his friends.

“Can’t, mate,” Liam raises a hand. “I mean, I would love to spend more time with Zayn,” he smiles again that wide smile that gets Harry rolling his eyes again, and he ends up chuckling, “but I have some business to finish here first. Man, our trade is flowing!”

“Good thing to hear,” Harry smiles at him.

“You should consider moving to Virginia with me. More chances there than ever,” Liam says and Harry hums. Zayn on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He keeps telling him about life in Virginia and how their trade will grant them more profit, and how Harry is very interested makes the conversation more and more unbearable, so he excuses himself, telling them he’ll get them some tea, and stays in the kitchen for a while.

He does serve them tea, but decides to move to the bedroom by the window until they’re done talking. He sees Liam and Niall leaving after a while, hearing them laugh about something he doesn’t quite hear before they do.

“Left us early,” Harry comments on his absence once he gets upstairs, and Zayn doesn’t know how to reply. Wasn’t interested? Didn’t want to hear the part where Harry agrees to move to Virginia with Liam? Liam isn’t a bad guy, but Zayn has taken a dislike to him. “Something bothering you? Hope that Liam’s light flirting didn’t get to you. I can talk to him if it did-”

“It didn’t bother me,” Zayn replies.

“Then,” Harry takes a seat next to him. “Did the talk about Virginia bother you?” Zayn doesn’t reply. “You didn’t want to leave the farm in Harefield, I know you won’t agree to move to Virginia.”

“It wouldn’t stop you.”

“You’re mad at me because I would leave for Virginia?”

Zayn turns to him then with wide eyes. “You’ve decided already?!”

“You want me not to?” Harry raises his brows, and the question hangs between them for a long time before Zayn turns to the window again. “You want me to or you want me not to?” Harry repeats his question. “I can’t make a decision when you don’t tell me your thoughts and feelings, Zayn.”

There’s a carriage moving in the street, and he can already see another carriage leaving, watching it until it fades and hoping it will come back again. Harry’s done that. He came back. And now he’s leaving again, and Zayn doesn’t want him to.

“Zayn,” Harry’s tone is quiet and gentle when he speaks his name. “If you tell me not to then I won’t.”

“Why?” Zayn asks bitterly. “Virginia holds new opportunities for you and your trade.”

“It doesn’t have you.”

“You chose your trade before me,” Zayn turns to him.

“I chose my trade _for_ you,” Harry corrects. “I was content living in a big mansion with everything at my disposal until your big eyes decided to stumble upon me. I had to build myself to guarantee that Emily or Louis, or anybody else won’t be able to touch us if we got together. I _love_ you. But you being scared to share your feelings with me won’t help this relationship! So tell me,” his voice gets quiet again, “do you or do you not want me to leave? Because I’m building a life decision on your answer.” Zayn parts his lips to reply but nothing comes out, and Harry waits until he can’t anymore, and Zayn watches him leave the bedroom, hearing his steps as they descend the stairs, and when he closes his eyes, there’s a carriage leaving, then there’ll be a ship leaving, and Zayn can’t swim. He’s an awful swimmer, and hope is a boat he won’t be able to reach. He’ll drown and no one will come to his aid.

When he opens his eyes, he can’t hear Harry’s footsteps anymore, and he gets up quickly, skipping the stairs until he gets to the last one, and Harry turns to him, hand at the door handle, and Zayn’s breath isn’t as steady as it was a moment ago.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Harry repeats.

“I don’t want you to leave for Virginia, I don’t want you to leave this house, and I don’t want you to leave _me_.”

“Because?”

“Because I wouldn’t have allowed it if Louis decided to sell me to a keeper, and I would have left without looking back once I was reunited with Paul. I’m not a big fan of living in new places with new people.”

“Zayn,” Harry sighs.

“You’re a person who I met a couple of times and opened up to without knowing. I didn’t know why I was looking forward to seeing your emotionless face break into something else, and I didn’t know why I was so upset when you acted differently with other people, but between seeing people’s truth and losing my friends, you stayed and cared and got to be better, and I don’t want to watch you leaving me, because it hurts so much, and I wouldn’t feel a part of my day missing. It’ll be a part of me missing. So please don’t leave me for Virginia because during the little time we spent together after you opened up to me, I too fell in love with you.”

Harry’s hand slips off the handle slowly. “I think even if I had already made up my mind about travelling, this would have made me stayed.”

Zayn blinks at him. “What?”

“I wasn’t leaving for Virginia.”

“What?” Zayn repeats.

“I just wanted you to finally express how you feel towards me,” he smiles, but Zayn frowns and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I take what I said back.”

“No you won’t,” Harry smiles wider as he steps towards him.

“You rushed my thoughts.”

“All I did was bring your feelings to the surface,” Harry cups his face and kisses his forehead, “but it’s nice to know that you’re scared to lose me,” when he looks at him, he’s still wearing that amused smile on his face, and it makes Zayn frown deeper. “Honestly, you look like an upset kitten when you frown.” Zayn scoffs, but Harry hugs him nonetheless. “Exactly like Paul said you would.”

“What?!” Zayn pushes him away.

“He said you needed a small push, and before you say anything, I didn’t know that Liam would offer to live in Virginia, but I guess that was all it took to tick you off,” he shrugs, a finger brushing at Zayn’s cheekbone, but he pushes his hand away. “Then you’ll become an upset kitten.” Zayn glares at him, but it _is_ something Paul would do, and he isn’t sure if he should thank him for it or be upset about it.

“Then where were you going right now?”

“You were upset and obviously wouldn’t talk to me, so I thought to buy us tickets to the theatre tonight.”

Zayn pauses for a minute. “Is that option still available?”

“Of course,” Harry smiles again.

“Alright. Since it’s your fault, I’d rather to enjoy the show _alone_.”

“You’re still upset?”

“You wouldn’t know,” Zayn turns to go upstairs again. “I’m not telling you anything anymore.” He hears Harry sighing behind him before his arm gets pulled, and Harry turns him towards himself again. He finds himself too close to Harry when the latter puts his arms around his waist instead, so he averts his gaze elsewhere other than Harry’s face.

“But I know you have a kind heart, and you know that I love you, so you will forgive my little push.”

“I know that I didn’t get my invitation yet,” he looks at Harry then and pushes away from his hold again. “Until then, don’t talk to me,” he turns to the stairs again, but this time, Harry doesn’t stop him.

“Does this mean I’ll be forgiven after I get you the invitation?”

“Maybe.”

Harry doesn’t call for him again, and he changes out of his outfit when he gets to the bedroom.

**-_-_-**

The girl isn’t the same one since she moved to London, but her singing is still as beautiful. It feels like the first time he’s got here, sitting in the same place with his attention focused only on the stage. The only difference would be that Harry isn’t sitting far away on a chair by his own listening to the girl singing. He’s leaning over Zayn since the latter would prefer to focus on the performance instead of telling Harry off continuously, and he knows that Harry would keep arguing to stay close.

“Am I forgiven yet?” Harry whispers to him once she stops singing. Zayn smiles and turns to him.

“I’m not mad at you.” Harry leans away just enough to look at him. “I just didn’t want you to leave.”

“I’m never leaving you,” Harry assures him, “even if you decided to leave me … Which I hope you’re not planning to.”

Zayn chuckles as they get up to leave. “What will you do to make me stay?”

“That’s not the right question,” Harry replies and Zayn turns to look at him with confusion. “It’s what I’ll do to make you never think of leaving in the first place.” Zayn smiles at him because Harry might have already done that. They pass by the brothel’s street, and Zayn pauses for a moment. It’s not exactly a bad memory he’s recalling.

“Would you have come to see me even if I didn’t work for Louis?”

“I would have come to visit you even if you didn’t work at all.”

Zayn smiles at that and tilts his head to the side. “How would you do that if I didn’t work at all?”

“I would have probably rented a house across from you just to stalk you.” It gets a laugh out of Zayn.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, I would,” Harry argues. “I would have thrown letters at your window and sign it with a secret admirer.”

“Why not use your name?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to scare you off. Besides, secret admirer works better. You’d like the mystery, trying to find out who it is, and trying to see if you’d like your secret admirer that might be fake or the actual people you meet.”

“That would have been a troublesome.”

“You’d like it.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re curious by nature. How much are you willing to bet that you were going to keep them in a little box and reread over them later?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“We’ll see,” Harry replies as they get to their carriage. “I’ll start writing letters to you and see if you’ll keep them or not in a little box to reread them later.”

“That’s different. I know who you are.”

Harry hums. “Then maybe I will move to Virginia and write from there, see if you can recognize me or you will mistake me for a new guy you’ll meet.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Or maybe I won’t even read them and spend all of my time with that new guy I’ll meet.”

Harry gasps. “You’ll forget me that easily?”

“You’ll leave for Virginia. I’ll hate you,” Zayn reasons. “And can we not talk about that anymore?”

“It was just a theory,” Harry replies. “I didn’t mean anything.” Harry changes his position to sit next to him and places his hand over Zayn’s. “Sorry if it annoyed you that much.” He pauses. “Did you get upset?”

“If you ask me that every five minutes then I will be,” he turns to him.

“Alright,” he replies and Zayn turns to the window when Harry doesn’t say anything more. “If I ask you how much you love me every five minutes will your love increase?” He asks after a pause, and Zayn parts his lips and closes it over nothing, feeling Harry placing a kiss on his cheek a second later. “I’ll take your blush and silence as a yes.” And Zayn smiles despite himself, turning his head further away for Harry not to see it.

“You’re the worst.”

“But you love me.”

That. He does. He doesn’t say it out loud though, but that doesn’t stop Harry from asking him how much he loves him every minute until they get home. It doesn’t make his heart physically grow, but the feeling he gets in his chest every time Harry says it and means it is something unspeakable, just like Paul said. They pass by the same place he stumbled over Harry the first time he arrived here and he smiles at the memory. Maybe what happened here was fate’s way to compensate him for what happened to his old home. It was there and Zayn couldn’t see it, but Harry’s hand reached out for him when he was drowning. He squeezes Harry’s hand and turns his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, feeling the latter resting his head over his.

“Thank you,” he says out of the blue, and Harry’s tone tells him that he didn’t exactly catch on what he’s saying when he replies.

“For what?”

He doesn’t reply, just smiles, and Harry seems to still not get it right now, but he doesn’t repeat his question either.

When they get home, the image of red and orange warming them is pleasant.


End file.
